Basil of Baker Street and the Mysterious Toymaker
by Brinatello
Summary: Professor Ratigan's voodoo doll of Basil seemed like a mere child's toy when found and presented to the detective himself. However, in the days to follow, the mouse who always thinks logically is not so certain anymore...
1. Chapter 1: The Cursed Tool

Basil of Baker Street and the Mysterious Toymaker

By Brinatello

**Disclaimer: Aside from my own original characters, the others are property of Disney and are from their 26th animated feature, **_**The Great Mouse Detective**_** as well as the Basil of Baker Street series by Eve Titus. This story takes place after the events in the animated feature. Credit for grammar check, spell check, and the strive to keep this story in the proper time period, goes to my beta reader, Julibee-Darling. Thank you for all of your help, dear!**

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Chapter 1: The Cursed Tool

From the Journal of Dr. David Q. Dawson

Saturday 21 August 1897

It has officially been two months since I began living at the home of London's famous detective of the mouse world, Basil of Baker Street. However, the choice I made to shake that fellow's hand and remain an associate with him has become one that I have often pondered if I made correctly. It seems I have plunged into a world of two specific subjects I never expected to encounter: mystery and crime. Since the moment I agreed to remain an occupant of the Mayfair district on Baker Street, my fingers have kept busy at the keys of this typewriter, keeping a daily record of the detective's numerous cases. An official biographer, if you will, of whoever comes through his front door pleading for his unmatchable assistance. Although the solved cases thus far are brilliant, this most recent case is one that I do not wish to look back on with any fondness at all. It began on the second day of August...

Throughout the month of July, Basil formed a team of inspectors from Scotland Yard to investigate the rooms beneath the seedy pub known as the Rat Trap. The mouse had a spirit plus ten, a strength I could never possess in my age. According to Basil, the fierce battle with his nemesis and plunge from the clock tower was all in a day's work. A week after the fall, he was up and about with the other inspectors, seeking out any remaining thugs and taking every item of Ratigan's for close observation...except for one. Basil and I were home when the team found an item that we had surely overlooked many times, or perhaps hidden from sight. The item arrived to our front door by two very persistent inspectors that only wished to see Basil himself. I was standing by to make my own judgments, but I let slip a gasp when I saw what one of the inspectors held.

"Oh, my Basil, is that a...a--"

"A voodoo doll? Yes, Dawson, so it appears to be." Basil replied before I could dare speak the name. "A rather amusing little toy, gentlemen. No doubt used for Ratigan to cause me great pain."

"We thought you might want to have a look at it, sir." One inspector responded. "We were not sure if you believed in superstition such as this."

"Oh, I believe in channeling one's anger upon objects, but in truth, any real curse works mentally over physically." Basil lightly tapped a finger to his temple. "In other words, it is all in the mind. Therefore, it cannot inflict harm unless I allow it to, and I most certainly will not let a child's toy do anything of the sort."

My vote always had little or no meaning, but I begged to differ. The more I stared at the doll, the more it gave me a dreadful chill. A remarkable likeness to my friend, so much that whoever created it knew this mouse from head to toe, clothes and all. And about the clothes, yes! Upon closer inspection, the clothing was the exact material and shade of plaid brown from Basil's deerstalker hat and inverness coat. Apart from its features, the doll suffered puncture wounds from a number of sewing pins protruding from almost every section of its body.

"You are not shocked by this horrid thing, Basil?" I asked in amazement.

He shrugged a little. "Why should I be? It is no surprise the professor delved into ancient practices to harm his enemies, namely me, of course."

"What should we do with it, Mr. Basil?" The inspector asked nonchalantly.

"Throw it away!" I exclaimed, yet Basil had not raised a fuss to dispute my words. I could not understand how he was handling this creation of evil so calmly and heedlessly. The detective had been a thorn in Ratigan's side for years, and here he found humor that his nemesis kept a voodoo doll in his likeness.

"No, no, Dawson, we will keep it. That is," he turned to the inspectors, "if the Yard does not mind?"

"I am sure they will not mind in the very least, Mr. Basil." The inspector passed him the doll, blinking in questionable surprise when Basil backed away with his hands raised.

"Is there something wrong?" The second inspector asked.

"No, not at all." Basil reached for a pair of tongs and seized the doll in-between the clasp. He then turned to carefully place it on top of the fireplace mantel beside Ratigan's Death Bell. The strange action brought forth a bit of silence. Basil smiled meekly. "I would rather not get pricked by one of those pins!"

I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was indeed something wrong, something that Basil did not want any of the inspectors to suspect while cleaning out Ratigan's lair. Once the two left our flat, Basil sighed heavily and dropped down into his chair. Not only had his form begun to shiver from a sudden, unknown draft, but all of the color had drained from his face.

"Basil, are you all right?"

He pointed a trembling finger to the doll and faintly muttered, "Get those pins out...quickly!"

Without another word, I seized the doll and began to pull the pins out, turning to hear Basil wince and groan with each one removed. I gasped in shock, witnessing for the first time how such a small and innocent-looking object was filled with torturous evil.

"Oh, Basil, what in devil's name--"

"Ha-ha! Got you, old chap!" Basil jumped up with a wild grin and pointed to my shocked, wide-eyed expression. He was laughing at me. He released a low, hearty laugh and bowed his head with a sound I often enjoyed hearing, but most definitely not for this situation.

"Basil! Why, y-you...you no good trickster! How could you?!"

"Oh, Dawson, you are certainly one for a jolly good laugh! The look on your face..." he paused to stare at me, "is still there. Oh, come on now! You really do not believe in this voodoo nonsense, do you?"

"Basil, it is I who does not believe you are taking this so lightly! I thought you were really hurt by those pins--"

"Oooh, yes, those pins of which have caused me such great pain!" Basil doubled over and grasped the side of the fireplace. I was not the least bit amused. He lifted one eye to catch me cross my arms in disappointment. Snickering, he stood upright and walked over to apply an assuring hand upon my shoulder. I huffed and placed the wretched doll back on the mantel, resuming my crossed arms.

"I do not appreciate being duped--"

"Come now, friend, do not let my playful antics turn you sour. If this doll really is cursed, as you seem to predict, well, then, consider me cursed!" My mouth dropped like a lifeless codfish. "But, as I said, it is all in the mind, and unless I choose to let it harm me, then the maker and my deceased nemesis will have won the battle of wits. For now, we have an even bigger problem to deal with."

"A-- a bigger problem than you being cursed?" I asked, my jaw unable to hinge itself together.

"Yes, old chap." Basil glanced to the closed door leading to the kitchen, then back to my stunned face. "Mrs. Judson is very superstitious, and if she catches one breath of this doll, she will wish me to dispose of it."

"Basil, I wish _you_ would dispose of it already!" I droned, dreading the fact that he was actually going to keep this monster of an object under our roof.

"Oh, but if it is cursed," Basil said in a theatrical tone, waving his fingers as if he were about to do a magic spell on me, "you cannot just rid the item and think you have solved the problem! No, no, I'm afraid the proper way is far more complex--"

"Do you know how? If so, you must do it! Whatever it takes!" I said in exasperation. Basil calmly shook his head as I suddenly thought of a plan. "Wait, what about your friend, Ms Rosenberg?"

"The apothecary?" Basil asked with one eye-brow raised. "What about her?"

"Maybe she can tell us how to rid the doll--"

"Dawson, I am not about to take a silly toy over to her shop and interrupt her busy schedule with such nonsense." He turned to look at the doll resting on the mantel. "Besides, I consider it another addition to my triumph against Ratigan. It can do neither of us harm as long as it sits up there. Anyway, we have talked about it quite enough. The discussion is over."

"But, what if it falls off the mantel? What if it lands in the fire and burns? What if you burn--"

"Dawson, please!!" Basil bellowed suddenly and I closed my mouth. Clearing his throat, he said in a straightforward tone, "Your 'what ifs' are hypothetical and therefore cannot be rational, and since you are becoming irrational, I will say it once more: the discussion is over!"

Indeed, the discussion was over. For a short while, that is. I could not get over the fact he would want to keep this evil thing in his home, and to get technical, it was not his home. He rented out a room from Mrs. Judson. Ergo, it was her flat. We had to respect her wishes. I had to find the time to tell her of this doll when Basil was not around, yet my feet decided to take me elsewhere while the detective went out on an errand. Around nine thirty that Monday evening, I made a visit to Ms Rosenberg to get my own insight on the doll. Once I spoke to her, I became more frightened and of a believer to that supernatural world.

"Basil is choosing a path not to believe in it, Mr. Dawson, and with that skepticism, the doll can only do minimal damage to his spirit." Ms Rosenberg began. "The maker of such a tool either uses it for good or evil. Coming from Ratigan, it is pure evil, and whoever he got it from, they are no amateur to black magic. Basil cannot have any sort of physical contact with it, but at the same time, cannot foolishly misplace it. If it falls into the wrong hands, he will become a living puppet without strings."

"But, is he truly cursed?" I asked with brows deep in worry.

"Mr. Dawson, I regret to inform you of this, but as long as that doll exists with an evil spirit within, his days are numbered."

I swallowed hard. "What do you mean, Ms Rosenberg?"

Sighing, she looked away before answering. "Those inspectors should have never brought it to your door, never put it in contact with him. The doll was dormant before shown in Mr. Basil's presence. The magic has already begun its cycle. He has until the next full moon to dispose of the doll properly, or else his life is at an end."

"Please, madam, tell us what we need to do!" I looked to the woman with agitation.

She spoke perfect English, and yet somehow I felt she was pouring out her words in some foreign tongue. Regardless, I listened carefully to what we needed to do and how to do it. The steps were so bizarre that I wondered if she was playing me for a fool. How to relay all of this to Basil when next I saw him would be not only difficult, it was downright impossible. I knew a heavy lecture was in store for visiting his friend after he told me not to go, yet my business here was critical. I have handled stronger outbursts from him and still have perfect hearing. My main concern was that this little toy was causing him great harm without him even knowing it. I could not sleep a wink that night; I tossed and turned and had nightmares of that doll and the things it could do to my friend.


	2. Chapter 2: The Break In

Chapter 2: The Break-In

The doll was only the start of our troubles. I wished we had dealt with the thing right away, took it to Ms. Rosenberg to lift the supposed curse, and free my friend of it for life. It was only the following day, Tuesday, when a crime occurred right under our noses. Upon returning to our flat from an outing, our hearts sank when we found the door hanging from a hinge and broken glass littering the pathway. Basil rushed in and began to call for Mrs. Judson as I followed, my pulse racing. We eventually came upon Mrs. Judson bound in her bedroom and scared beyond her wits. Back in the foyer room, the detective began his gift of close observation, and I too started to look around.

"Oh! Basil, the broken propeller from Ratigan's dirigible! Was it not--"

"Against the mantel? It was, but they have taken it...and the bell...and the...doll." Basil's voice drifted as he paused at the fireplace. As I gently helped Mrs. Judson get to the blue corner sofa, I watched the detective's eyes follow along the edge of the mantel.

"Look here." Next to the newspaper article of us being thanked by the Queen, he found a scraggly note and passed it to me without having to read it himself. Brows lowered, I applied my reading glasses and read the note aloud:

"We have taken back what was rightfully ours. Do not try to find us, or you will be sorry!" I looked up and frowned to Basil whom was now holding the news article. "This is madness!"

"This is childish." He replied, passing the article to me. I looked to it, seeing the thugs had drawn mustaches and beards on our printed faces. Basil sighed and tapped my arm when he caught my wounded expression. "Do not look so despairing, old chap. I have a full newspaper of that date, mint condition."

It did not make things better in my opinion. "Regardless, Basil, this is not only breaking and entering, they have humiliated us!"

He only shrugged and looked away. "What did you expect from a band of misfits who worshiped the ground that vile sewer rat waltzed upon? As long as no one was hurt this time, a little violation on a newspaper scrap does not concern me." Pausing, he looked to Mrs. Judson, then back to me with a look of worry. "The theft of that...doll, however, that is something I am quite concerned about."

We never told Mrs. Judson of the voodoo doll, nor did she give much thought of it sitting on the fireplace mantel for less than twenty-four hours. She never questioned the things Basil kept in the flat, as it would only lead to the involvement of his cases. The doll, I am fortunate to say, remained a mystery to her. Items considered evil are not permitted in her home. She would have wanted it thrown out the minute she heard of its name. She never agreed to any sort of spiritual tools or objects of the occult under her roof, and for good reason.

"I, too, am concerned, Basil." I nodded quietly, thinking more of the doll than anything else.

"Oh, Mr. Basil." Mrs. Judson sighed from the corner sofa, lifting a shaking hand. "Forgive me for interrupting, but those items...that is not all they took from here." Basil and I both turned in her direction. She tried to sit up and fell back down with a small wail. We were both at her side in seconds.

"No, no, try to relax, my dear." Basil soothed to his beloved landlady. "What else have they taken? Just tell us instead."

The truth was, she did not know what else the thieves had stolen, only of the location that sent Basil fast-walking down the hallway. I could have sworn he placed a heavy lock on his bedroom door due to precious items kept within. However, not even a tiny lock would prevent thieves from stopping in their game of loot and villainy. If they wanted to steal something of his, they were going to steal it quickly and quietly. To our dismay, Basil's room was in shambles as if they were trying to find something of great value. Of course, it was not of great value to them, but to Basil most definitely. Everything was there, from my point of view, but when Basil opened a small wooden chest and uttered a loud curse word, I knew something had gone amiss.

"Basil--"

"My coat!" He growled. I backed away just in time as he flung the chest across the room with eyes wild and nostrils flared. "Those horrid thugs have taken it!"

"Your coat? But, the note, did it not say they only took back what was--"

"It did, and yet, here I stand in this disaster of a room with a rather sentimental object taken from within it!" Basil's voice was harsh and loud, unintentional for my ears, but I was the only one present to whom he could express his anger. He began to pace and run his fingers through the loose fur on his head. At this point, I began to wonder if the thieves stole anything from my room. Before I could go have a look, he was already out the door and in the hallway.

As I returned to the foyer, my eyes widened as I witnessed Basil at Mrs. Judson's side, demanding to find out vivid features of the thugs in every detail she could remember. Still shaking, she told him everything despite her constant break downs. I knew he was upset, yet Basil managed the utmost composure for her by patting her arm and telling her it was all right. The thugs she described had similar characteristics to the ones we dealt with during the Queen's Jubilee. However, there was one extra thug that stood out from the usual ruffian crowd.

"There was a girl in the group." She told Basil closely. "She wore a mask, but her voice, I could tell it was a female. She was the only one who broke into your room and came out with a black sack. That was the last thing I saw before I was tied up in my room." Mrs. Judson broke down a third time and lowered her head, feeling that assured hand fall upon her arm once more. "Oh, Mr. Basil, what was it she wanted from your room?"

"It was my torn coat, the one I wore when I fought with Ratigan." Basil tried to say delicately, for while it was a triumph for him, it was also traumatic. "I kept it in a wooden chest beneath my bed, away from my other possessions. It was the only thing removed from my room."

"Your coat? But, why?" Mrs. Judson moaned in confusion.

Basil answered while looking away, "I do not know, my dear."

We were all in a frazzled state that evening; none of us were able to sleep for several hours. Mrs. Judson regained some strength and made tea while Basil and I did our best at repairing the damages to the door and window. Basil was more of a carpenter than I realized, getting the door closed and back to its normal self. As for the window, it would have to be a temporary patch of wood planks to cover the hole. That meant we were unable to see who was approaching the door.

Later still into the hours of the night, Basil set to work at trying to piece everything that had happened thus far. Mrs. Judson had to find something to do to keep her mind occupied. Cleaning the kitchen was an idea, yet that left me alone to fend for myself with the pacing, fuming, and very annoyed, detective. He lit his pipe during his brood state and looked like a locomotive in back and forth motions.

"This worries me deeply, Basil." I began with his back facing me. "How did these thugs know where--"

"Oh, that part is easy, Dawson." He turned his head and waved a gesturing hand. "Not only is my address known to just about every mouse in the entire world, those two inspectors left a trail of bed crumbs without realizing it. I found myself talking to two mice who felt as though they were being watched, or in this case, followed. The items taken is one thing, but the assault of our landlady..." he had to pause with a snort of anger to that. "No, they have definitely gone too far, and they will pay dearly for their crimes." Before I could agree to that, three sharp knocks at the door got our attention.

"Who could that be?" I asked when our view of the street was now obscured by wooden planks.

"Three knocks with a harshness on the door, I would say it is Inspector Vole-- ENTER!" Basil shouted rudely, not caring to open the door like a proper gentleman. I decided to walk over and stand by the door as it opened slowly to reveal a mouse Basil correctly stated without looking. Vole glanced to the window with eyes wide and brows lifted.

"Mr. Basil, my goodness chap, what on earth happened here?"

"Is it not obvious, Inspector?" Basil snapped tartly before inhaling on his pipe. "My flat was broken into with only a few items taken. Fortunately, no one was harmed." Inspector Vole nodded, gazing around the flat. "And what, may I ask, brings you knocking at this hour?"

The inspector smiled a little. "Well, detective, I thought you would be pleased to know more hoodlums of Ratigan's gang have been caught." This appeared to be good news, for Basil's expression suddenly changed to some approval. It was nice to see the wrinkles of anger disappear around his eyes. Arms behind his back, he remained silent as the inspector continued with the report. "They foolishly tried to return to the Rat Trap and were taken on the spot by patrolling bobbies who watched them go over there."

"You are right, Inspector, this does please me greatly." Basil nodded, looking to me briefly. "A small, not-so-bright clan cannot be a match to officials when they have no real skills in fending for themselves."

"There is more news, Mr. Basil." Vole said, causing us to listen more closely. "There was an unfortunate snag in our round-ups: one of them escaped from the group." I tisked quietly while Basil surprisingly remained calm. "Seaside bobbies chased him, but he escaped by boat on the Thames. We could not see his identity due to a face mask, but he was carrying a large black sack with him." My head immediately snapped to Basil as he stood staring, puffing on his pipe quietly.

"Very interesting, Inspector." He looked to my face and I could not hide my shocked expression. A face mask and large sack sounded like the same description Mrs. Judson gave of the girl who ransacked Basil's room. My friend seemed to pick up on this and nodded at the inspector. "Are there any other details you can provide on the lone thug?"

Vole blinked rapidly. "Er, we could not see his identity due to a face mask. Did you not hear--"

"Yes, I heard what you said." Basil snapped again, not caring if he was rude to the inspector. "How did the thug look while running?"

"Sorry?" Vole frowned. "What do you mean how did he look?"

"In other words, Inspector, how did his form appear while running?" Vole stood clueless as Basil raised a finger. "Allow me to explain. Body movement, shape and form, the way his legs ran, the way his arms shifted up and down. You can tell the gender of someone just by how he moves or gestures, not to mention the shape of the figure alone would have told you if it was a male or female."

"I...oh." Vole said, feeling a little warm with embarrassment. "Well, then it was a male."

"Are you absolutely certain of that, Inspector?" Basil pointed with his pipe at the inspector. Vole finally sighed in a manner of defeat. "That is what I thought." Inhaling his pipe again, Basil continued. "The reason I ask this is during the raid in my flat, one of the thugs fit that same description: wearing a face mask and carrying a large black sack. My poor landlady caught sight of the blackguard, and although her eyes could not reveal the hidden identity, her ears worked just as good. The thug was most definitely of the feminine species, and _she_ stole something from my personal quarters."

"What did she steal?" Vole asked curiously.

Basil waved a dismissive hand. "That is none of your concern." He looked away from the inspector, thinking to himself, _Yes, this is no one's concern but my own! A simple piece of torn material taken from my room is nothing but a concern that only I can possess!_ I somehow knew what he was thinking, and it did concern me greatly. Like my friend, I felt there was more to this puzzle than the mere theft of his tattered coat. "Do you have anything more to report?"

"Nothing more at this point--"

"Then, thank you for your time, Inspector. You may go now." Basil waved his hand once more to the inspector, attempting not to look my way when I made a face of discouragement. He really needed to brush up on his social skills. Inspector Vole nodded and turned to head out, secretly hoping not to return for a very long time. Many inspectors of the Yard tried their best to avoid the detective whom they have called impertinent more than once.

By three thirty in the morning, I could feel the tiredness undertaking my insides and my bed was calling me to lie down upon it. Before I left my companion alone to meditate in his own thinking, I caught him reading one of his international newspapers in a section I never would have guessed. I calmly glanced over his shoulder to see him sifting through the latest fashions and the newest recipes from the finest chefs. Lastly, his eyes scanned over the highs and lows of success from someone he had been reading about ever since the Flavershams left our flat. Curiosity got the better of me and I stared at a photo of a beautiful individual dressed in lavish clothing.

"Still awake, Basil?"

"The thought of my flat broken into has kept my eye lids in an upright position." He sighed a little. "Not to mention this bit of research I promised to a friend has slipped my mind, what with the break-in and all..."

"Research?" I asked. "On what?"

"Oh...on this...on her..." Basil gestured to the page. "This mouse has been popping up quite frequently in my international newspapers, a young mouse quite successful in the toy business."

"The toy busi-- and you are reading this because...?"

Basil sighed again before answering. "Well, Flaversham was interested in what he will be up against in the toy-making industry. Since I carry a collection of international papers, I promised I would keep him up to date on his fellow competitors. Apparently from what he has told me, his shop will have far more assortments than what this toymaker has to offer."

"Keeping him up to date on his fellow competitors." I repeated with a smile at him. "That is thoughtful of you, Basil!"

He scoffed to that. "Oh, piff, it is nothing, really. Only a minor request. If it is true our friend plans to open a new shop twice as big, twice as popular, he is going to be up to some heavy competition with this mouse."

"Indeed..." I started to read over his shoulder, a very rude thing to do, but my curiosity continued to expand. "Kenyatta Mosenthal, world-renowned toymaker of... Samalia! Upon my word...it says she is currently on a summer tour to promote a new line of her...dolls?" I looked up with surprise before continuing to read. "She is making new dolls based on real-life individuals for the holiday season."

"Mm-hm." Basil muttered, obviously not too thrilled with the news.

"So far this summer, she has been through parts of Asia, China, and Japan, showing off dolls based on famous kings, queens and ambassadors." I looked to her face in the photo again. Yes, she was very young and beautiful. "My goodness, she has been to a vast number of countries!"

"London is supposed to be her next stop." Basil said without looking at the lower section of the page. I looked down at her schedule of shop appearances and he was right. "I believe it is this Saturday at Hamleys. She is giving a workshop for those who are interested in the toy business."

"What a generous young woman!" I quickly said before I realized I had been outspoken once more. Basil only nodded as a response. "And listen to this. A second new line she continues to work with the following year will be mice who have earned a mark in history. Famous writers, actors, actresses, and opera singers are among her chosen fields to preserve in the form of a little figure made from her own sources of material."

"I would not be surprised if she plans to create our Queen Mousetoria." Basil said without much thought. "Unless, of course, she already has."

"Or, how about Winston Mousehill, the famous speaker?" I suggested with a laugh.

"Mlle Irene Relda, perhaps?" Basil winked.

"Or, how about you, Basil of Baker Street?" I laughed, but only by myself. Basil's face turned sullen and I quickly cleared my throat. "Uh, would you not agree?"

He shook his head, briefly closing his eyes. "No, she would not make a doll of myself, Dawson. Only famous mice will come forth to her vivid imagination--"

"But, you _are_ famous!" I said with exasperation. "You are the most famous and greatest detective of them all!"

Basil had to smile to those words. "I appreciate that, Dawson, but she has her heart set on ones she feels have made a mark in history. The only way she would make a doll is if one of her assistants suggested it by finding something worthy that I have done in the past."

My jaw almost hit the floor. "You defeated the dastardly fiend Ratigan! You saved the Queen from an assassination! You reunited a kidnapped father with his daughter! How much more worthiness do you need to prove?" Basil closed the newspaper and placed a hand to his eyes, indicating to me he had heard enough.

"Please, Dawson, it is not going to happen, I know this for a fact."

"How do you know--"

He raised a hand. "I just do." Silence passed between us for at least ten seconds, and in that time, Basil put the newspaper down upon a growing stack of others and stood up with a stretch. "I think it is time we retire, my friend."

"Hm? Oh, oh, yes! Good idea." As I headed to the door, I turned on him once more. I simply had to know. "Er, Basil? Uh, pardon my curiosity, but...how are the Flavershams these days?" Basil hesitated before answering, and at first, I thought I made a terrible mistake to ask such a question.

"They are fine, Dawson." He finally said with a small smile. "Flaversham is working hard at rebuilding his shop while his daughter works in a sewing factory. I received a charming letter from the child herself and she claims that she is doing well, keeping busy with her duties."

"Oh." Was all I could only think of, feeling my own mouth smile with relief.

"Yes, they are just fine." He nodded, his smile remaining.

After that final response, I decided to leave him alone and went to my bedroom. All I ever attempted to do was try to cheer him up and it seemed as though I was only making matters worse. Why was he being so stubborn, so modest not to realize he was very famous and deserved to be a part of that toymaker's doll collection? Whatever my friend was thinking, it was far different from my thoughts, and I had to let him do his own thing or face his wrath.

Something told me to linger in the hallway, to watch my friend in wordless curiosity as he wandered over to his chemistry table where a stack of papers looked taller than a pint of lager. He retrieved a letter from the top and looked down at it thoughtfully. Taking it to his favorite red chair, he sat down and read it over:

_23 July 1897_

_Dear Mr. Basil,_

_Greetings to you, Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Judson. We are doing fine. We moved to a flat in Manchester near a school I will go to in September. The flat is below a closed general store after the owner died. I think his name was Mr. Bailey. Daddy took the offer on the property and made plans to turn it into his new toy shop. Due to the size, he contacted another for assistance. I can't remember her name. She sounds foreign. I got a job in a sewing factory. I don't like it, but any extra money will help rebuild the shop._

_Sincerely,_

_Olivia Flaversham_

_P.S. Thank you for the book._

Basil rubbed a finger over a damp spot on the page and grimaced. "Ratigan, if you were not dead, I would kill you all over again for the pain you have caused in her life."

**********

A/N: End of chapter 2. Inspector Vole was briefly mentioned in the Eve Titus books, but it was never revealed of the gender. Because of this, I kept that the same way here, never revealing the gender. One might guess it is a male when being an inspector of Scotland Yard, and females were rarely chosen for the job. Credit for building the character up more goes to Diane Tran (AKA Mlle Relda).

As for Kenyatta Mosenthal, she is an original character of mine. In earlier drafts, I made her a client to Basil seeking help on the theft of some of her belongings including a voodoo doll. With a change in the story, I made her a competitor to Flaversham in the toy-making business. Oh, and to sam fraser, Ratigan and Fidget are not in this story. Hope that doesn't dampen your reading experience!


	3. Chapter 3: The Doll Maker

Chapter 3: The Doll Maker

While the break-in was a frightening occurrence, it became quite clear that more horrors were beginning to unravel before our very eyes. The thought alone of Basil being cursed by an evil voodoo doll worried me into a state of much concern. I could not determine the exact point I started to see him falling victim to its egregious powers. Perhaps when that foolish inspector shoved it in his face or when I pulled the pins out during Basil's playful antics. All I knew was that it entered his life, latched on like an invisible enemy, and slowly began to drain every last ounce of his energy. The events continued with a surprise at the arrival of a very unusual but vital mouse to our case. Yes, it is also at this point where friends from the past were once again plagued by misfortune. A misfortune they were yet to discover whether they wanted to or not...

Around eight o'clock Wednesday morning, I awoke to find a note attached to my bed post. Basil left the flat before sunrise and would later inform me as to why. I must add the style of his penmanship showed he was in some sort of hurry. However, I was never one to judge another of their way of handling the quill to paper. It was still legible, and I was very curious to know what he was up to and if it involved the voodoo doll. I had yet to find out soon enough. Breakfast sat fine with me, it was lunch I had a hard time digesting when Basil chose to explain this crucial errand.

"After you went to bed, I decided to read over Miss Flaversham's letter." That part I remembered clearly. "However, when I returned to my table to place the letter back in its envelope, I noticed it was not there."

"Are you sure you did not misplace it?" I tried to think logically and, as usual, he was one step ahead of me.

Basil shook his head no. "I searched the entire surface, and with that letter fairly new, it would not have been moved to a different location." I watched him stand up and perform a series of gestures at his table. "There were two letters from the Flavershams, one from the toymaker himself and the other from his daughter. Mr. Flaversham's letter arrived first on the 19th of July dated the 16th while his daughter's arrived on the 26th dated the 23rd. Mr. Flaversham's letter was buried further down this stack of papers while his daughter's was sitting right on top here."

I tapped my chin in deep thought. "You do not suppose that the thugs...I mean...would they?"

"Why not?" Basil placed his hands on his hips. "The lives of this innocent pair have been threatened before, why not again? Why not continue to seek and destroy what little peace these two have left in the world?"

"Oh, my..." I looked down to my half-eaten kidney pie, unable to take another bite.

I could not believe my ears when Basil told me this dreaded news. What started out as a quiet afternoon turned into another series of worry and anxiety, this time for his former clients. As I slept in my warm bed, Basil was out in the early morning hours making a dash to Upper Baker Street Post Office where he sent off a wire of warning to the Flavershams. I could only pray our friends would get the information before it was too late.

As for that wretched doll, we still were not out of the woods from this new found evil. Ever since the robbery and the contact with that object, my good friend had fallen into a pit of despair, far deeper than from our encounter with Ratigan. We worked hard at trying to find some answers to who might have taken the voodoo doll and it all kept leading back to the spot it was discovered: Ratigan's lair below the Rat Trap. Basil questioned almost every patron in that godforsaken pub, some distant, others very cooperative. The bar maid and her husband did not take kindly to our business, and the minute trouble started, we were asked to leave at once.

Between Thursday and Friday, two visitors came at different times, both seeking the aid of the detective. With the stress of a cursed doll lingering around, he had a difficult time focusing on each of their problems. It seemed as though this evil power had weakened him even when the thing itself was nowhere near him. One ray of light did come shining through with one of the two visitors, for on Thursday, the 5th of August, it came in the form of a letter:

_To Mr. Basil,_

_I have news for which you inquired on our last visit. Please, see me tonight around 9 o'clock at the docks near the Rat Trap. Come alone. ML_

I did not agree with this one bit and I refused to let my friend go alone, not in his current state. A small but heated lecture did not end in my favor. I was regrettably unable to accompany him when he had to respect this mouse's wishes and do as he requested. Although I was amply assured Basil would survive without me, it did not ease the stress of knowing he was on a solo outing to meet with someone who could be another 'Ripper' murderer in disguise. The whole time he was away from the flat, I walked the floor like a worried father, drinking many cups of tea and chewing nervously on the cheese crumpets Mrs. Judson provided. I could not stand to wait for answers. I wanted to go after him or contact Scotland Yard, but as promised, I remained behind and watched the clock tick slowly on the mantel.

"Dawson--"

"Yes!" I jumped up as my friend entered the flat with a look of surprise.

"Forgive me, did I startle you--"

"Not at all!" I caught my breath and adjusted the front of my coat. "Uh, how did the meeting go? And who is this ML chap?"

"Never mind that. We have got a lead, Dawson. Please, sit down while I explain everything."

And explain he did. For the first time, I received some decent, important answers. The note came from a young female mouse, a witness to the robbery at our flat. Undetected, she followed the lone thug to the Thames. The thug caught a waiting boat with the witness hot on their trail, catching the next available boat across the river. At the dock, the witness watched the thug remove her mask and approach two mice.

"What did the thug look like?"

"She looked like a female, now let me finish!" Basil groaned. Pardon me! Instead, he continued with the description of the two mice. From what the witness could see, they were definitely foreign, having just arrived into port. Judging by their clothes and appearance, they had traveled from another country.

"Where did they come from?" I asked quietly.

"The witness told me her suggestion after describing their clothes and appearance, and yes, I would have to agree with her wholeheartedly. They were both female, one tall in height, the other several inches shorter. Each wore clothes of flowing fabric, multicolored designs, lavish material to be exact, and their fur tones were of a dark shade of brown."

"Pygmy mice."

Basil nodded. "The thug carried on a soft but quick conversation, and before long, an exchange occurred. The thug passed the tall mouse the black sack while she in turn handed her what appeared to be a reward in the form of a thick envelope. The witness assumed it to be bank notes, and lots of them. The tall mouse soon pulled out the contents of the sack, revealing not only my torn coat, but the doll as well."

"What?!" I gasped. "Y-you mean Ratigan's thugs do not have the doll?"

Basil shook his head. "Although their note said they took back what was rightfully theirs, she somehow must have bribed them for her to keep the doll...or any other means of threat." I nodded, not surprised by that. "But, it does not end there. Another conversation began, one that turned rather unpleasant. Without any sort of warning, the thug jumped the tall mouse and wrestled her to the ground. She could only grab the doll and run off while the tall mouse clung to the torn coat."

"Oh, my word..." Was all I could say as he continued.

"The woman, meanwhile, got up, said something to her companion, and they also disappeared from sight. That was the last the witness caught of the two foreign mice. As for the thug, she continued to follow her trail and ended up at the Rat Trap. She was seen talking to one of the female dancers before the two walked away behind the curtain and off the stage." There was a long pause and I watched him stand up and slowly walk away. Was he finished with his explanation or not?

"Er, what else happened?"

He would not say, but instead said he would continue at a later time! Angered and annoyed, I was left with more unanswered questions!

Saturday early evening, Basil and I hopped onto a hansom and took it down to Regent's Street where we arrived at the famous toy shop, Hamleys. That was right. The 7th of August was the date. I had completely forgotten of this little outing he had planned to do, but at the mention of Flaversham's name, it once more made sense.

"Oh, yes, you are checking up on that competitor for Flaversham, right?"

"Right...and wrong." Basil responded, and before I could ask, he pushed through the front door of the shop, not even bothering to wait for me. I paused in the doorway to watch as he approached the first clerk, talking for a few seconds, and then the clerk pointed in a direction towards a long, narrow staircase. The point in this entry is where it all began. Yes, I had merely fallen back a few paces and regret to say that I missed something that Basil continues to believe he saw with his own eyes. I had just reached the top landing when my arm soon felt a strong hook of a hand latch on and sent me dragging forward.

"Good heavens, Basil, what--"

"Did you see her?" Basil turned around suddenly with his nose inches from my own. "Tell me you saw her!"

"Uh, saw who?" I slowly pulled my arm from his grasp, feeling my eyes widen by the minute.

"She..." His voice drifted as he stared off in the opposite direction with hands on his hips. "She was just here! I saw her on the top landing. She was looking right at me and then ran off down that corner!"

"I do not see anyone--" Confound it, he had a massive grip when he wanted my attention, for once more I was getting dragged down a dark corner to find someone I had yet to lay eyes upon. No one was on that top landing with us, not with it being a level for offices and training rooms only, and it brought great confusion to my friend's face once he realized that.

"She is gone--"

"Who is gone?!" I blurted angrily. "Basil, you are not making any sense!"

"I...never mind. Come on, we are going to be late..." And with that, he took off to one of the office rooms without waiting for me.

What in blazes was wrong with him? I was not sure what had happened, only that when it did, he turned it off as fast as the extinguishing of a candle. We soon arrived in a small room with many empty chairs and empty tables. Either we were really early, or we were the only ones awaiting for the arrival of someone who had yet to show up in the small area of the toy store. Surrounding us were shelves full of many exotic toys and knick-knacks. It reminded me very much of the human toy shop on the Flaversham case. Basil looked agitated as he took a seat next to the shelves, tapping a nervous finger lightly upon his hat. Within the next few minutes, some mice both male and female entered the room, all of which looked like charming, adolescent mice.

"Are you here for--"

"Yes, I am." Basil quickly said to one of them.

Soon enough, a beautiful mouse entered the room dressed in lavish clothing with a younger mouse in tow. They both had a fur color to them that I instantly guessed of Pygmy descent. Yes, it was West Africa to be exact. So, this is whom Basil was waiting to see. It was Kenyatta Mosenthal, the famous toymaker I read about in his international newspapers. I had forgotten of this workshop she was holding at Hamleys; it slipped my mind from everything we had going on within the week. I suddenly felt a discomfort when she entered the room, a bit of negativity as she looked our way even though she smiled pleasantly. That smile, however, faded once we exchanged introductions after the session.

"It certainly is a surprise to see you here, Mr. Basil." Ms Mosenthal took his outstretched hand once everyone left the room. "Tell me, are you or the doctor here interested in making dolls, or know of someone who is?"

Basil shrugged with a smile. "A little of both, perhaps. Dolls in general are a fascinating creation. I have always wondered how they are made, how they work to make one so...attached to them." His eyes seemed to be scanning all over her face. He was searching for something, but I was not sure what. "So, how was your journey here? No trouble upon arrival?"

"None whatever, Mr. Basil." She shook her head and smiled. "We arrived earlier in the week from our last stop in China. It was such an exciting experience, the mice there were so pleasant and friendly."

"I see." Basil nodded, glancing to me, then back to her. "Are you here in town for long, Ms Mosenthal?"

"No, I am afraid not. We are leaving tonight and heading up north. We have an appointment we need to keep with someone who contacted me. My daughter was interested in applying for a job as an assistant in a toy shop." Ms Mosenthal gestured to the girl at her side, nudging her a little to turn in Basil's direction.

"Ahh, and what a lovely daughter you have." He smiled down to her and she backed away behind her mother.

"Yes, this is Makalia." Ms Mosenthal tapped her shoulder. "She will be staying with an exceptional toymaker while I finish my summer tour around Europe. It is a fine way to earn an honest living and get more experience in the business world."

"Yes, that is a fine way, most assuredly." Basil nodded, gazing back down to the young girl. "So, who is this toymaker you will be working with?"

"Oh, no one of much importance." Ms Mosenthal answered and Basil looked her way.

A slight laugh, he challenged with, "Forgive me, but did you not just say they were exceptional? Surely, it would then be someone of much significance?"

"Well, I meant exceptional in their own right, but, oh, you know what I mean?" Did he? Basil did not answer, but only smile broadly while her eyes darted back down to her daughter. Even I was starting to smell the fear rising from her. With another laugh, she replied, "Well, we really should be going. A pleasure meeting you both."

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine." Basil nodded and gestured to allow her out the door first. He nodded briefly to Makalia and then to her mother with, "Good luck on your tour, Ms Mosenthal." Once they were gone, I immediately looked to Basil whom still held that pleasant smile. It suddenly formed into a smug grin. "Traveling north...meeting with an exceptional toymaker...of no importance...indeed!"

"Do you think they are off to see--"

"Do I think it? Dawson, I know it!" Basil turned fully on me. "As you may recall, Mr. Flaversham has asked of me to keep him up to date on any sort of news of competitors in the toy-making business. One such in particular has just left this very room, and she is not just a competitor to him, her daughter is going to become his part-time assistant while her mother finishes her summer tour."

"But, why would he contact someone like her, a competitor, to help in his shop?"

"Yes, why is that?" Basil asked in return, yet I was far too stumped to try and answer. "Which leads to further unanswered questions: why was she so secretive to mention his name to me?"

I blinked rapidly. "Because of...who you are?" No answer; he only continued to smile. "Because she is up to no good?"

"Right on both accounts, however, there is some lingering doubt here. Think back to what we discussed this afternoon, what the witness reported to me. The description of the two female mice on the docks with the lone thug."

"Oh, when they did the exchange of the black sack for money?"

Basil nodded. "Yes, and what else?"

"They talked for a bit, and oh! There was a quarrel!"

"A very big quarrel." Basil said with another nod. "The thug attacked the tall mouse, the witness caught her literally clawing at her face. I looked over Ms Mosenthal closely and, unless she wears some remarkable make-up to cover the scars, the two mice on the docks were two other women, not whom we just encountered!"

I raised a finger. "But, then that means she had no involvement with the break-in."

"Correction, she had no _physical_ involvement with the break-in." Basil turned to head out the door. "The thug worked for her, worked at getting the doll and my coat to her, and that makes our charming lady an accomplice to the robbery. She is up to something, and I have yet to find out what it is."

The remainder of the evening was spent back at Basil's flat where he set to work with the two other client's cases. I only pressed lightly to know what the cases were about and got a few muffled replies. One was something about a missing child with very little detail for him to follow. Any sort of missing child kept him all the more occupied, and I decided to allow him as much concentration as possible. As it was, I became far more interested in getting the doll back and destroyed, but I had to have patience. For all we knew, the doll was no longer in the city, and Basil was starting to feel much better with it further away from him. It did not mean that the curse had been lifted, just that the magic could not be put to work when the physical was nowhere near it.

While he worked on his cases, I went to the library to read up as much as I could on Voodoo, Hoodoo, Vodun, or any other name I came across in that satanic nonsense. It had such a long history, much of which had been going on in America in parts of New Orleans, Louisiana. I was amazed of how much this has become so popular. You could either hurt your enemies or bring your loved ones good fortunes. It was true it depended on how the tool was used and for whom it was used for. All I kept seeing from that doll was evil. Having come from Ratigan, I feared if the doll lasted one more day, I would find Basil in a state worse then I could imagine. I also went back to have another word with Ms Rosenberg and to mention the theft of the doll. Before we could find it, I asked if there could be any sort of protection against the curse. With such a question came a grave expression. Why were we always plagued with bad luck?

"There is no protection against this, Mr. Dawson." Ms Rosenberg sighed. "I have told you what needs to be done, and it should have been done right away."

"But, the break-in, I mean, we would have--"

"Yes, it is unfortunate that they took the doll from your home." She nodded sadly. "The curse will continue to pull every bit of life from your friend, no matter how far away the location it may be. The closer it is, the stronger it will pull." She looked down to an opened book on gardening and closed it quietly. "Dr. Dawson, do you know of anyone who might have wanted this doll, someone who wants revenge on him?"

I would have needed an entire book of names of those who wanted revenge on this detective. All the mice he put behind bars, brought to justice, or had them executed in broad daylight. Yes, there were many names of individuals who want to do great harm to him. After disposing the famous Professor Ratigan, it came as no surprise that someone, a follower of that sewer rat, would want the detective to suffer, or worse, to perish.

"It could be anyone, but...I do have some names narrowed down..." I muttered softly.

"Well, Dr. Dawson, it is quite possible whoever wants rid of Mr. Basil will soon show up, in one form or another. And if he cannot find the doll himself, I have reason to believe it will somehow find him."

"There is one more thing, Ms Rosenberg." I went against Basil's wishes, but his life depended on it. "An article of clothing was also stolen from his personal quarters." Her eyes flashed and a gasp escaped her lips. "It was the torn coat he wore the night he fought with Ratigan."

Clutching her chest, Ms Rosenberg sighed heavily. "Oh, Dr. Dawson, your friend is in more trouble than I thought!" I could not have been more grief-stricken with those words, to hear he was in more trouble meant the clock had begun ticking, and time was running out fast. "This is no longer child's play, these mice mean business in harming your friend, or worse, taking his life!"

"How is having his coat going to cause more trouble?"

"Do you not see it?" She replied in grand gestures. "The coat has his essence upon it, shedding of fur, sweat from perspiration, blood stains, those are vital elements needed for voodoo dolls. One has been created, but there is no telling how many they can make with a large piece of fabric."

"Oh, my word..." I could not believe my own ears, yet it soon made perfect sense. In order to create an authentic voodoo doll, items had to be taken from the body of the victim, be it strands of fur, drops of sweat, and yes, even blood, the source of our life. "Then, there is no other choice. We must find that doll. Basil can no longer treat this as a simple game."

Ms Rosenberg shook her head. "No, he should not, however, his initial toying with you is a sign of him keeping in high spirits. Allow him to stay that way, Dr. Dawson, but do warn him that such games as this often end with dire consequences." I watched her walk around her counter and place a hand to my shoulder. "I wish you both the best of luck. Please, keep me informed of anything new."

A downpour was not a fair addition to a mouse whom had just received more dreadful news. I walked quietly from the apothecary, once again finding silence within Basil's foyer. I finally had to break my confession and tell him everything that Ms Rosenberg had said. He only smiled as if he knew all along I had been visiting with his friend. At least my ears were spared from a terrible lecture. He trusted her greatly, as the same with me, and with two friends worried for his well-being, he considered taking this cursed doll more seriously, starting with where it might be at this point in time and who might have it.

"The thugs in my home were indeed from Ratigan's gang, and only a solo artist entered on her own to take what she was paid to take, my coat and the doll."

I thought over what I had been told and weaved it out slowly. "So, after the quarrel on the docks, the female thug could only grab the doll from the tall mouse and run off to the Rat Trap. The tall mouse still has your coat in her possession." Basil nodded to my words. "What do you think the thug did with the doll?"

"I do not think, Dawson. I know. Remember, the witness followed the thug back to the Rat Trap. As she talked to the female dancer, she took the sack from her and disappeared from view." I blinked and stared at Basil. He held back on telling me that part.

"That means the female dancer has the doll?"

"Maybe...and maybe not." Basil sighed and stood up to pace. "I am trying to piece together why the thug let the dancer have the doll, or what the witness could see, maybe the dancer took it from her by force? She really could not get a good look, but in the end, the dancer walked away with the doll and that was the last time the witness saw it."

"I am still deeply concerned of the theft of Flaversham's address." I said quietly. "What does Ratigan's thugs wish to accomplish with that information when the vile rat is dead?"

"More trouble, of course, especially when they are friends to an enemy." Basil paused in his pacing and turned to me. "As you know, I sent them a warning by wire and pray that it arrived within the assured twenty-four hours."

"We should pay the Flavershams a visit instead, Basil, er, that is, to make sure they will be all right when Ms Mosenthal arrives." There, I finally said what I had on my mind and I did not care of the consequences. Surprisingly, Basil did not protest.

"The thought of a trip up north has crossed my mind more than once, Dawson, but first," Basil sat down in his chair and gathered his hands together, "I am expecting more news from my little witness before the night is over. She has steered us into the direction of following behind one thug with a change of heart, wanting a reward, yet not seeing my life come to end." I nodded as he went on. "The lone thug foolishly returned to the Rat Trap to talk to one of the dancers whom took the doll from her possession."

"And do you believe what Ms Rosenberg said about...you know," I said it quietly in hopes of not jinxing it, "you have until the next full moon to find and destroy the doll?"

"Well, I do not actually believe I will suddenly fall over dead!" He saw my jaw drop and shrugged innocently. "In other words, we will see what happens, that is, if we do not have the doll back by then, and I do not plan on waiting around much longer."

"I checked my calendar for the next full moon and--" His face, why was he smiling and rolling his eyes at me? "What? I wish to know when the next full moon is!"

"It will be the 12th of August." He winked to my hurt gaze. "I have already checked."

"Good heavens!" I yelped, unable to respond without stuttering. "T-t-that is only five days from now! W-w-we do not have much time! We need to get the doll back right away! We need to--"

Basil nodded slowly. "I know, my friend, I know...but, remember what Ms Rosenberg said?" He gave a look of minimal achievement. "If I cannot find the doll myself, it will somehow find me."

Just as Basil was expecting, another letter arrived around eight thirty from the ML mouse, and before I could say or do anything, my friend was heading out the door, once more refusing to allow accompaniment. It was the same witness with more updated news, one that would lead us on a trail hotter than before. By the time Basil returned at the stroke of ten, I was asleep in my chair, yet instantly awoken at the sound of the door slamming and feet trampling down the stairs.

"B-Basil? I was not sleeping, just taking a little--"

"Get your things, Dawson! We are heading north!" He said as he flew past me into his room. Sitting up, I went to follow, almost getting run over as he ran by to grab something in the foyer, and then run right back through the door. "The next train leaves at eleven sharp. Nine hours of travel time, should arrive by eight o'clock in the morning to our destination."

"But, north to where?"

"To Manchester. We are paying a visit to the Flavershams."

"To the-- b-b-but, why? Are they in trouble--"

"Trouble is an understatement, Dawson!" Basil snapped with wide gestures. "That...that...ohhh....that damn voodoo doll has been mailed out to them, so yes, I would most definitely say they are in for an unexpected surprise!"

"What?!" I gasped. "Why in blazes was the doll mailed out to them--"

"Why? WHY?! Must I hand you the answer on a silver platter with garnish?" Basil paused to stare and I was almost afraid to nod my head. "The thug was here in the flat. She saw the name 'Miss Olivia Flaversham' on the envelope on my table and read the letter. She instantly got the connection that not only was she a child, she was an obvious client of mine. She took the envelope with possible thoughts of threats or blackmail before her change of heart during the exchange. Once she got the doll back in her possession, she wanted to get rid of it somehow, but in a more dignified nature. She talked to a dancer at the Rat Trap, and at the mention of the child's surname, one that the dancer recognized during her kidnapping, she took the doll and mailed it out to her! What better way to get rid of it than to mail it out to a little girl and have her think it came from a good friend of hers?"

"A dancer of the Rat Trap was a good friend of Miss Flaversham?" I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"That...or she might have wrote on the parcel that the doll came from me instead! After all, it is a doll of myself!" I gasped again as Basil wandered off. "I have no doubt in my mind she received the doll by now, but hopefully, she received my wire first and is aware NOT to open anything that comes to her!"

"Oh, my goodness, then we really should get going!" I turned and started to follow Basil.

"Indeed. Come on, old fellow! It will be just us traveling...with...one minor companion..."

"Really?" I asked. "And who might that be?"

"Uh..." Basil returned to the foyer and looked around as if he lost something...or someone. I should have been more alert, or even aware, that when he returned home, he was not the least bit alone. Standing in the center of the room, he placed his hands to his hips and looked all around the floor. "Now, where did she dash off to?"

"She?" I asked, also looking around. "She who--"

"Shhh! Wait!" Basil flattened his hands and raised a finger to his lips. "Do not move Dawson, do not speak, or even breathe!" I took a large gasp of air in and held it as Basil slowly walked to the small stairs and to his large suit of armor. My first thought was he had gone quite mad, but once I caught a pair of small feet between the legs of the armor, I knew what Basil meant when he said 'minor' companion.

"Ahhh, here she is! Come on out from there, don't be shy." Peeking her head slowly around one leg, I spied a very young child, eyes wide and full of terror. She looked to me briefly before taking the extended hand of my friend and making her way out of her hiding place.

"May I speak now?" I tempted, a smile forming on my lips. "For, I am a bit curious, if not confused, as to who this little one is."

"She is...the maker." Basil gestured to the girl at his feet.

I blinked rapidly. "Er, of what? Trouble?"

Smiling, he shook his head and said, "No, Dawson, believe it or not she is the maker...of my voodoo doll!"

**********

A/N: End of chapter 3. I know. Huh? A kid is the creator of the voodoo doll? This is all a huge 'what if' to where Ratigan really got that doll. The professor could have gotten the doll from anyone or anywhere, but this is the path I've chosen. I wanted to create a background that it came from someone innocent with no connection to the professor.

As for Ms Mosenthal, I toyed back and forth on whether or not to make her an enemy to Basil, but so far in this chapter, she's not looking too good. An original draft had her as an evil Voodoo queen linked through Ratigan, and after finding out his death was linked to Basil, she set revenge on taking his life through witchcraft. A large change came about to create another OC, a young child, as the creator to the stolen doll. This opened a whole new scenario around that with an additional OC linked to Basil and whom you'll see much later on. It was getting complicated, but I think I sorted it all out to make sense.

There was one regret in this chapter, and it was Dawson denied accompanying Basil to talk to the ML mouse. Normally, Dawson goes everywhere with Basil not just as his assistance, but for safety in numbers. Thing is, at the time of writing the chapter, the ML mouse was undeveloped and uncertain of what I wanted to do with them. So, with Dawson being the eyes and ears for the reader, he was left behind. I consider it Basil respecting the mouse's wishes and also, he wasn't quite ready to have Dawson meet the mouse in person.


	4. Chapter 4: We Meet Again

Chapter 4: We Meet Again

I was almost certain I heard correctly when Basil addressed a mere child as the maker of his voodoo doll. He was full of endless mysteries, and I was bound to get all of my answers if I had to interrogate him to death. Some of my pondering did, however, cease while we traveled northbound on that late Saturday, early Sunday morning train. The spontaneous trip, I regret to say, was made during a terrible storm. We hopped onto a passing hansom in the direction of Marylebone Road after hearing the driver was taking the passengers to Waterloo, the closest railway station in such short notice. I had hoped we would arrive to the station before a downpour would drench us all.

We rode with a handful of other travelers who preferred to keep to themselves than to ask why two grown mice were boarding with a little tot. She was so quiet; at times I felt there was no one standing alongside us. I pressed to ask again who she was, only to get silence in return. Her very presence brought back memories spent with Miss Flaversham while on the case of searching for her missing father. Although a few years older, she was the perfect example of any child in this day and age: lively and quick-witted. It was a shame this girl was so contrast; I would have wanted her to start up any sort of conversation with us, anything her little heart desired. Instead, she remained quiet and obedient. I briefly excused myself from Basil and approached the ticket counter.

"Good evening...uh...three tickets, please." I gazed to the two a few yards back. The ticket clerk took the money and slid the three tickets in my direction. "I beg your pardon, but, would you know if the train is running on time tonight?"

"It should be on time, sir." The mouse said with a dull tone. "Although, the tracks are slippery due to the storm. You might have some delays to your destination."

"Thank you." I tipped my hat and turned to make my way over to Basil and our small traveler. "So, my dear, have you ever been on a train before?" I smiled down at her, attempting polite conversation. The girl looked up at me in confusion. "A train, you know, a big, long, steel machine on wheels that goes woo-woo!" I looked up and caught Basil biting his lip and eyes rolling skyward.

"From that expression of hers, it is safe to say no, she has never been on a train before." Basil replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. I went to speak once more, but my words were cut short by a dancing array of lightning flashes in the sky. Seconds later, a crack of thunder rumbled within the clouds. I reached down to pull out my umbrella as a second display of magnificent lightning lit up the sky, followed by a boom of fierce thunder.

"The ticket clerk informed me that we may have delays because of the storm." I told Basil whom nodded nonchalantly. London was a sight for sore eyes when it came to the weather. And it did not surprise us that our trip would take a little longer than usual.

"It is delayed now, Dawson." Basil informed me while checking his pocket watch. A third clap of thunder and that was the cue to make a run over to a safe spot to avoid the rain pelting on us. Basil took the girl's hand and guided her under the station's half-circle roof while I followed behind with my umbrella wide open. Pausing, he looked to a crowd of mice and squinted his eyes to someone he only caught from behind. I knew that look on him and it meant trouble. "Well, well, well, look who is catching the late train with us." Turning to his view, I caught Ms Mosenthal standing there with her daughter.

"Oh! Is that Ms Mosenth--"

"Shhh!" Basil clamped a hand to my mouth when my words were obviously too loud for his liking. "Yes, it is her all right, and for our sake, she will not catch sight of us." The child looked at the two female mice and began tugging on Basil's trouser leg. My friend knelt down to her level as she gripped his arm next. He whispered a question meant for her ears only, one that made her silently nod in response. I could see the fear in her eyes and became greatly concerned. Basil returned to his full height, just in time to catch my troubled expression.

"Basil, is everything all right?"

"Not quite, old chap." He quipped.

"Should we catch the next--"

"The next train is several hours from now, Dawson, and I don't prefer to loiter out here for much longer." The girl tugged once more at his trouser leg to point to a round, dim light approaching on the tracks. The whistle blew next as a friendly greeting into the station. Basil sighed and looked to that woman once more before moving in the opposite direction. "Come on, we'll take a section towards the back, as far away from her as possible."

The time came for our train to arrive, and it felt so good to sit down in a warm, quiet compartment of our own. My friend amazes me to this day, for as I took my seat, I could not help but watch the simple yet tender scene unfold. The detective, who usually showed a harsher side to children, ended up carrying the girl inside when I must have missed a slight stumble while boarding the train. Her wide, terrified gaze looked all around the compartment before settling on me. I tried to lift a smile in hopes she would do the same. I thought it was an exaggeration, but Basil later stated that she squeezed his neck with a force as strong as a boa constrictor, for the color in his cheeks turned a dull shade of pink. She was shivering too; the poor dear was not only scared, but chilled to the bone.

"Is she all right?" I faintly asked, although, I should have directed the question to Basil, the one with the lost oxygen, instead.

"She is...fine, Dawson... I, on the other hand...am not...breathing..." Basil coughed as he pulled her arms from his neck. I bit my lip to hold back the laughter. With a sigh of relief, and feeling the normal flow of air return to his throat, he gently placed her onto the cushioned seat. He left the compartment no more than fifteen seconds and came back with a soft, wool blanket from the sleeping quarters to keep her warm. Her soaked coat had to be removed; I took the initiative to peel the article of clothing off to prevent any drop in temperature. All this time, she never spoke a word.

"There, are you warm now?" I asked, receiving a mere smile from her small form of a mouth.

While we sat in our own compartment, Basil explained the entire meeting held that Saturday evening and the background story of our newest companion.

"I know you have many questions for me, mainly of this little one and where she came from."

"Quite so, Basil. I am all ears."

"This child, unfortunately, has come from a troubled and frightening past." He began. "Her parents were brutally murdered while trying to save her from a sacrificial ritual. The child witnessed the entire scene, something I would never wish upon one so young and fragile. She was later sent to live in a foster home where she was one day discovered of her gift. At just age five, she learned how to make voodoo dolls and peace tokens, all of good fortune. Her usual days were spent with her mother in a toy shop in Africa."

"The family grew successful with their business, affording decent housing, and maintaining a high profile to society. This did not sit well with fellow competitors in the family's country, and soon enough, they were threatened by another company with several death notes. The child was taken from her home as an additional threat with many police and inspectors around the clock searching for her. A private investigator was called upon the case and found the child's location one week after her kidnapping. The parents were informed, and like the caring folks they were, went right into the lion's den to save their daughter. The investigator warned them not to go, but they would not listen to him."

"And that is when they died trying to save her?" I asked more in the form of a statement, receiving a single nod.

"Yes. Their daughter was held captive by a local shop keeper named Tabitha Wicks, a mouse highly skilled in black magic and a dangerous woman to see reason with. It would seem more than just the success of the business that she was after this family. The child's mother and Ms Wicks had fought for years over mundane nonsense. It was this final accomplishment in the shop that caused the threats to begin. Due to the nature of the parent's demise, the local papers could only report their deaths as murder to save the townsfolk of hearing any sort of witchcraft. Once the child was taken to a foster home, an unknown family decided to adopt her, and it became clear that they only wanted her for one thing. Her gift to make voodoo dolls became a rarity at such a young age, but it was convenient for them when she worked for free and did not complain of any sort of discipline. As it was, she never spoke after the witness to her parent's death. Unless she is chanting spells for her creations, she will not speak to anyone. She simply went into shock that full words have been unable to pass her lips to another ever since."

"And how did she end up in London?" I asked, looking down to her form nearly hidden within the wool blanket. Basil also looked down to her.

"Ms Wicks was still trying to find her and set out to do what she could to destroy her. News arrived to her that she was at the foster family's home and, by unknown circumstances, a fire broke out within their residency. The child was transferred to Europe to escape from the violence and exposure to what the locals called black magic. Her past brought her here to London where she remained at a home through the NSPCC organization."

"I see." I had heard of that group before, the National Society Prevention of Cruelty to Children, founded in the late 1880's. It was a perfect establishment for those less fortunate or had come from broken homes. I looked to her again and felt a tremendous amount of sympathy wash over me. Only five years of age and hardly able to trust anyone in this world. "You still have yet to tell me how you found her, Basil."

"Well, to be honest, she found me." Basil said with a small grin and shrug. "The truth of the matter is that witness I have been meeting with is an old friend, and I will save her story for a later time." His tone changed to a deeper one. "For now, I discovered she and this child were former employees to a local toy shop. While she and the other workers did their job in the standard factory room, the child worked closely to the boss. He was a strict, no-nonsense business type who enjoyed doing favors for many of the vagrants wandering the streets of London. It was when he got the request from an unknown source to create a voodoo doll of myself, none of the other workers agreed to do it. The child, however, never talking back to her boss, agreed and built the doll without so much as a reason of why."

"And that unknown source just happened to be none other than...?" I whispered 'Ratigan' and Basil nodded once. "But, then, how do we know if she made your voodoo doll to be good or bad?"

"Ms Rosenberg could tell you that one. Voodoo dolls are created to either send out good karma to the ones you love, or to send out harm to the ones you detest. It depends on what is asked of the spirit. With such one created of me to give to Ratigan, I can guarantee it was not used to sleep with." I chewed my lip, trying not to picture that huge rat sleeping with a doll looking like Basil. "The child had no background knowledge of my ongoing rival with the professor, nor would she question it. To her, it was strictly business. The doll was built with positive energy, but once given to and abused by Ratigan, the energy turned negative."

"Does she now know of your past with him?" I asked, wanting to know as much as I could.

"No. She only knows creating the doll was a mistake after meeting with me tonight. I told her not to worry, but she has much regret that the doll fell into uncaring hands. She had no reason for guilt when she was asked to do it, yet, she still pleaded for my forgiveness." Basil tapped her shoulder and she briefly looked up with tiresome eyes. "Since she created it, she wants to be the one to find it and lift the curse, or whatever it is young voodoo creators such as herself do to help the victim."

"Remarkable, very remarkable." Basil agreed with a single nod. "Then, I am pressing on the fact that you know such dolls could only be created with personal items?" It took a moment for him to answer as he began to recall very unpleasant encounters.

"Of course I know, Dawson, I know it quite well." The sentence bit a little with curtness, but I paid it no never mind when he continued in his normal tone. "I have crossed paths with the professor before, been in many one on one battles. The battle atop the clock tower was not the first time I have lost bits of material from that fiend. We once got into a physical fight and I lost a large section of my coat. It was still in his grasp as I managed to escape that round. A henchman simply provided the torn fabric to the shop, and the creation of a voodoo doll of myself was successful."

"That was all they needed? Just the torn fabric?"

"No." Basil shook his head. "Usually voodoo dolls are made from moss, sticks, and other earthly-known items. This doll, as you've seen, was made differently. She sewed it together with a thick, burlap material for the body with the buttons added from the coat. My witness claimed there is one thing that helps make this doll more powerful than just the personal attachments. It was this same item Ms Mosenthal wanted from within the doll, though, she did not get the chance when it was taken away from her."

"What was it?"

At those last words, a flash of lightning flickered across our window along with loud, crackling thunder. The child sat up at the dreadful noise and rolled onto the floor of the compartment. It was the first time I heard sound emerge from her lips, and I did not wish to hear much more when it was a painful whine. I went to rise and assist her, but Basil was already kneeling beside her shaking form. We had a wounded animal in our compartment, and it moaned something fierce for several passing minutes.

"No, no, it's all right, it's all right..." Basil replied soothingly as he gently gathered her into his arms.

I resumed my seat and shook my head. "The poor dear, we unfortunately have no control of the weather."

"Nor do we have control of traveling through it. Calm down, darling...calm down..." Basil sat on the cushion and placed her upon his knee, shushing to her continual wails. This display could have fooled anyone, for he sat and consoled the little one until her fears were completely at ease. It was strange to say but, at that precise moment, I had reason to believe they had met before, that he was the same private investigator who rescued her from that evil Tabitha Wicks. I kept this thought to myself. I had done enough questioning for the time being and we all needed our rest.

Three hours into our travel, I drifted into a light doze. Every so often I would lift an eye lid to any audible sounds within the compartment. A mild flicker of lightning danced across our window, followed by a soft roll of thunder booming afterward. The child sat up again and looked around the compartment. Basil had stretched himself out across the cushions of the seat while I remained on the opposite end curled up tightly and comfortably. I do not know why it happens, but it seems, in my medical studies, the body often has the urge to 'go' in the middle of the night. In younger children, it would be an extremely unwise choice for them to wait for a later hour of the morning. I caught a glimpse of her heading to the glass door and attempting to slide it open.

"Going somewhere young lady?" I heard Basil mutter to her. Although his hat covered his eyes, he was still considered on the first watch and kept one eye visible to the room as he rested. He made the same assumption as I and rose to take her to the nearest water closet. Fortunately for us, one was not too far from our compartment. Basil led the child into the room and closed the door behind her. Yawning and stretching a bit, he propped himself against the wall of the train's narrow hallway. He was so exhausted, he could not recall the last time he had a decent amount of sleep. A few minutes later the girl returned to the hall and looked up to Basil caught in a mid-yawn. Tugging the hem of his coat got his attention and on the move back to the compartment.

Soon, it was my turn to stay awake, and I knew it would not take long for Basil to fall into a deep sleep and visit another plain of existence. More lightning illuminated our window, followed by that dreadful thunder, and it was the perfect orchestra to stir our minor companion from her own deep sleep. Sitting up, she pushed herself against her arm of the chair and stared out the window, her form trembling from the noise. She was scared again, and not just of the weather, but of her new and strange surroundings. She was in a small room with two mice traveling to who knows where. She probably longed to sleep safe and secure in a soft, warm bed. Instead, she was cold, wet, and wrapped in a blanket on a seat cushion. I could tell she was very miserable and frightened. As it was Basil's turn to sleep, I found myself drifting and closing my own eyes at the same time. A clap of thunder woke me up and see that my one slip caused her to leave her seat. My punishment for losing her has yet to be decided.

"Oh, no! Basil! Basil, wake up!" Basil bolted upright in his seat and jumped to a standing position, looking all over in a slight daze. "The girl, she-- I did not get the chance to--" I did not get the chance to finish what I was saying either, for Basil took off running to locate her. I staggered out behind him as the two of us went in separate directions to find her. Only the bits of lightning helped guide us in the dark, and they did not happen very often. I started to worry when we both met up with no luck on either of our search.

"She could not have gone far." Basil mumbled when he took the path I had just come from and proceeded to take it all the way to the very back, to the caboose. The entire train was empty in each compartment, all except the sleeping quarters that brought forth various sounds of snoring. Basil looked along the lower bunks in a slow, careful movement, not wanting to stir anyone from sleep, but checking to see if she might have slipped into an empty bunk.

As I stated before, my punishment for losing her has yet to be decided, and it was clear from Basil's face that he was none too happy with me. We lost the child on the train. Basil was right, she could not have gone far, and that meant she was either in a good hiding place or someone had kidnapped her. I was praying the latter was not it. We never slept the remainder of our trip. Basil walked up and down the narrow halls of the train in a furious, determined motion to find the missing child. I carried my own thoughts with me as I followed behind a tall and brooding mouse whose wide steps were no match for my small ones.

"Perhaps she is simply hiding from the storm?"

"If that is the case, then she is in a very good spot. Go and see if she returned to our compartment, I'll check the luggage room." I nodded and headed for our compartment as he went in the direction of the luggage room. I had half-hoped she would go back to the same compartment and was waiting for us. I was disappointed to find the room empty. I sat on the cushion and covered my face with my hands, trying to think hard at where the girl could have gone. There simply was not a lot of places one could go on a moving train and we checked quite a few. Lifting my gaze, I spied a note at the foot of the seat where Basil had previously sat. I lowered to pick it up, frowning to its words scribbled rather messily.

"How strange."

"We're slowing down." Basil told me as he suddenly entered the compartment.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said we're slowing down. This car has been disconnected from the rest of the train." I heard the words, they sunk into both of my good ears, and yet I still stared at him as if he had gone completely daft. "The child nor our foreign toymaker are nowhere on this portion, either."

"Oh, my..."

Basil sighed and frowned to my hands. "What do you have there?"

"Oh...uh, it is some note I found. It says, 'Mimi katika deni'--" Basil moved forward and immediately snatched it from my hand, placing it in his coat pocket. "Where did it come from?"

"Never mind."

"But, what does it mean--"

"I said, never mind!"

I dropped the subject instantly. As it was he did not wait around for me to speak, for he was out of the compartment once more to prepare for our sudden exit off the train. The fog began to play an evil role against us, turning thicker every minute into the morning hours. Just as Basil stated, the train slowed down and came to a standstill a few feet away from the next station. With nowhere to go, everyone began to disembark and slowly make their way to the platform of the station. I caught conductors scratching their heads and talking amongst themselves as one of them mentioned the sight of a young woman standing next to the window of their car door.

"I don't get it, mate. I turned my back for a moment and when I looked again, the bolt was disconnected!"

"I think it was that woman standing there, but I'm not sure."

Basil nodded to those words as he looked my way. I could not meet with his eyes when I felt so awful for losing the poor girl. More rain decided to fall upon the ground, sending puddles up in every direction. I shielded my eyes while reaching for my umbrella. I offered some shelter of the umbrella to Basil, but he protested, not caring if he was getting drenched.

"It is no matter to me." He shrugged carelessly and lowered his gaze to the ground. "I am more concerned that the child _and_ Ms Mosenthal are long gone. Barely into our care and the girl has been spirited away from us." His eyes lifted up to mine again, this time with a little squint. "It is quite amazing how history repeats itself, no?"

"Oh, please, Basil, I am truly sorry for this--" I started, but he only waved a hand and continued to slosh along. "Wh--what do we do now? The train is gone and we have not reached our destination to--"

"Stockport."

I blinked and looked to him. "I was going to say Manchester."

"No, Dawson, I mean we are in Stockport." Basil pointed to a sign above us and then went to the ticket booth to ask for a map. Returning to my side, he unfolded the map and pointed to the town located below Manchester. "We are close to our destination, but not close enough. Downtown Manchester is another three hours from here." He looked to his pocket watch next. "And it is almost five thirty in the morning."

"How do you suppose we get there in three hours? A hansom would take us all day!"

"Do you gents need a ride to Manchester?" A gravel-sounding voice asked from the shadows. Basil and I turned to face a pair of eyes staring at us. The mouse emerged from the shadows and wrapped his coat tighter around himself. He looked dirty and unkempt with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. I was thankful to see a bowler hat was covering most of the thick, oily strands of fur on his head. His eyes looked sunken in as if he had not slept for many days. "I can get you a ride to Manchester in less than an hour."

"No such transportation could get us there in an hour, could it?" I look to Basil for an answer as he left my side to approach this stranger.

"There is such a transportation, but it is a little newer to my traveling...and a little dangerous to ourselves." Basil turned to the stranger and replied, "Show us the way my good man."

"Wait! Wait, hold on!" Basil and I turned to see a young bespectacled girl rushing over to us. "Did you say you two were going to Manchester?"

"Yes, we did, my dear." I replied, not catching that Basil was staring at her intently. "Why do you ask?"

"I need a ride there as well and I am in a very big hurry." She answered hastily. She turned to Basil next. "Is it all right if I come along?"

"It's quite all right with me." I answered instead when Basil kept staring with an expression I was starting to worry over. I looked to the girl again and wondered why he was giving her such looks. It certainly was not a girl that looked Pygmy or someone Ms Mosenthal sent after us. She looked like an average teenager of English background with bright green eyes, light fur and a very innocent face.

"Thank you, sir. My name is Harriette, by the way. Harriette Welsh."

My response apparently was an approval for her to follow us while Basil remained silent. The stranger only smirked when he realized he was getting more passengers and more payment for whatever ride he was providing to Manchester. I did not feel right about this character, but if there was a way to get to our destination in less than an hour, I was willing to accept the offer. The stranger led us off the platform of the train station and over to the side of the ticket booth building where he began to climb a small ladder leading to the roof. I gulped at the thought of climbing up to anywhere, but Basil did not protest and we followed behind this mouse to the roof.

"His shift is almost over, but he won't mind doing one more sweep through towns for any delicious morsels." The stranger paused at a large nest and gestured to a bulk of feathers within it. Basil stopped abruptly as I dropped my jaw to the sight and Miss Welsh gasped.

"Basil, it...it's an owl." I whispered.

"Very good observation, Doctor!" He whispered back. "And it travels at a rate of thirty-five to forty miles per hour."

"Are you suggesting we go through with this?"

"Are you suggesting we ride a hansom for a full twenty-four hours?" Basil turned to the stranger. "We will accept." The stranger nodded and held out a dirty paw to him.

"I handle the expenses."

"Oh, really? And why is that?" I asked with narrowed eyes.

"Probably because he handles the owl, Dawson." Basil said, receiving a mere nod from the stranger. He then mumbled out some outrageous price I almost argued over, but Basil simply reached into his pocket and paid the mouse without another thought. Miss Welsh went to reach into her purse, but I offered to pay instead. Basil turned to look at me and whisper, "You are far too kind to someone you hardly know."

"It is the least I can do when she also lost her transportation. I wonder if this flight comes with a meal." I looked to Basil whom rolled his eyes.

"Dawson, we are the meal!"

"Only if Bernie is not in a good mood." The stranger assured us while tapping at the bird's wing. "Wake up, lad, you've got passengers waiting for you!" I nearly fell into Basil as the owl sat up with an enormous screech. "Gents and miss, meet Bernie the Barn Owl."

"Good heavens..." The owl twitched his head and blinked his eyes rapidly in my direction first. I went to speak, but the owl screeched in my face. If Basil had not caught me, I would have fallen to the ground in a dead faint.

"Is he all right?" The stranger asked, although his tone did not hold much concern to it.

"He is just lacking sleep, he will be fine!" Basil laughed before lowering his voice beside my ear. "Come on, old chap, pull yourself together!"

"How can I possibly do that when I am about to ride on the back of a natural-born enemy?"

"Oh, Bernie only allows one passenger on his back." The stranger shook his head. "The other two will be clutched in his claws." My jaw dropped again. "Oh, but it's a safe ride, very secure!" I looked to Basil in a desperate plea to change his mind, but he only nodded to the stranger.

"Let the girl ride on his back, then." I suggested, catching Basil shrug calmly in the corner of my eye.

"Very well, come along miss."

The stranger motioned Miss Welsh to climb up onto the highest portion of the roof near the smokestack. She nodded nervously and agreed to follow. Basil and I were then instructed to face our backs to Bernie and wait for him to swoop down and grab us in his mighty talons. I briefly looked behind me to see the stranger giving the owl a small bucket of something, possibly mice guts before the start of our journey. Satisfied, Bernie turned to flutter up next to the smokestack and prepare to locate his target, namely us. The stranger then climbed up near the smokestack to assist Miss Welsh onto the owl's back. Although side saddle would have been appropriate in her dress, she took no chances and straddled the bird instead. Bernie screeched a bit as she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly.

"Ready, miss?" The stranger asked.

"N-not r-really." She replied shakily.

Sighing deeply, I muttered, "Basil, if I am eaten alive, I am coming back as a ghost and haunting you!"

Within the next hour, I must say I cannot recall much of it. I was later told by Basil that I blacked out off and on and had my eyes closed the entire time we were air born. Bernie snatched us up and flew off that roof so fast, I barely had the chance to say a quick prayer. The wind blew swiftly against my face, and I thought I heard Basil and Miss Welsh actually laughing with delight, but I was too far gone to notice much of anything. I was fortunate I had not eaten before departure, either. My face turned a shade of green once we reached firm ground. It was a rough landing, too. Since Bernie could not properly touch the earth, he had to lower himself as close as he could and then release us onto a patch of soft grass. A light tap to my cheek woke me up and I stared into a pair of friendly yet worried green eyes. Miss Welsh also stood by looking concerned.

"So, Dawson, do you still plan to haunt me when you're dead?"

"Uh!" I sat up as Basil pulled me to a standing position. "W--w-where are we?"

"From the looks of it, the Shambles district of Manchester."

"The owl knew where to go?"

"Of course, birds are intelligent creatures, much like us." Basil frowned when I sighed and started to pat my chest as well as my arms. I was merely checking to see if I had any pieces missing from my body, but my actions caused a bit of a concern. "Goodness, old chap, are you all right?"

"I-- I guess I am all in one piece. H-how are y-you?"

"Splendid! Now, daylight is upon us, we really should find a place to rest." Basil turned and made a gesture for me to move forward.

I turned to the girl. "Miss Welsh? Will you be all right?"

"Yes, I will be quite fine. I can take a cab from here. Thank you both for letting me tag along." She smiled, only looking to me when Basil was once more giving her intent stares. She finally looked his way and smiled shyly. "That was quite a ride, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." He nodded a little and began to walk away. "Good day to you, miss."

"Good day, sir."

"Be sure to stay out of trouble." He winked, making her frown. Basil turned away as I watched her slowly bow her head. Perhaps I was too trusting on strangers, Basil certainly was with that owl trainer, so why did it seem awkward to allow this child to accompany us? I did not question why he said that to her, nor did I turn to see where the girl had disappeared to. We only kept moving forward.

I was still not over the fact that we lost the child on the train and followed in wordless guilt behind the detective. I gave up on apologies when knowing it always fell on deaf ears. He knew I was sorry, but saying the word repeatedly would not change the past. We had to move forward to make the wrong right again. We also had to move quickly when rain decided to fall more heavily. It was at that point I realized I had lost my umbrella, for it was nowhere to be found after landing on the grass. I scowled at the thought of losing such an important item yet chose not to explain my minor outburst. There was no reason to when Basil, having his eyes open the entire time, witness me accidentally drop it during our precarious flight. Along with the guilt of losing the child, my face began to show utter defeat and sorrow. Upon seeing this, Basil fell briefly into a moment of pity and offered to buy a new umbrella at the next given chance.

The two of us walked up to a large, Tudor-style building surrounded by others mirroring its design. I briefly caught the name before we walked through the front door for our size. The Old Wellington Inn. I had heard of this place before, but had never the chance of visiting its four walls until now. Judging from its medieval architecture, it was clearly built in the mid-sixteenth century. It was far from upper class yet pleasant to see it away from lower class. It was an average place remaining in good standards for the continual guests. Their restaurant, titled Sinclair's Oyster Bar, sounded tempting when I often enjoyed a taste of the sea along with a cold pint. Although food and drink were not my main priority at present time, I had hoped we would visit the pub for breakfast and lunch. Entering the warm and dry inn was such a comfort to our weary selves. Even Basil took a moment to wring out his saturated hat. I followed suit by removing my outer garments to give them a good shaking. The clerk lifted his head to watch this scene with some annoyance and quietly cleared his throat.

"Can I help you gents?" He asked in a snooty tone.

"We would like two rooms please." Basil said as he approached the desk.

"Very well." The clerk opened a heavy book that slammed loudly upon the desk. I flinched to the sound. Lifting a quill, he dabbed it in the ink and rested his hand across the paper, glancing up to Basil. "Name?"

"Last name is Rathbone, first is Barrie. And this is Dr. Joseph Bettin." Basil could feel my questioning gaze upon him, and with a minor wink in return, I knew he was going for two aliases.

"Very good." The clerk dully nodded. "And how many nights?"

"We are only staying for a few hours to rest." Basil looked to me as I approached the desk to watch the clerk nod and start to write in the book. "We will be checking out at six in the evening."

"Very good sir."

"Where did you come up with those names?" I had to ask as we left the desk.

"Oh, I just randomly chose some names from nowhere in particular." Basil shrugged lightly. "You never know when we will have spies on our tails. It is best to take every precaution that we can."

I could not wait to get to my room, get out of these damp clothes and into a warm, soft bed. The clerk had summoned two maids to see that we had enough towels for a morning bath should we desire to take one. My back was turned as a squeaky voice hummed to herself while placing the towels in my bathroom. The second maid attended to Basil's needs in his room and I was quite sure everything had gone according to plan. Drop off the towels in the bathroom and depart from the room, correct? Not so in this small world of ours, not so at all.

The maid entered Basil's room with the stack of towels piled so high, she could not see the path in front of her, nor could Basil see her face. Turning in her direction, he smiled pleasantly and chuckled at her small height. _She's a little too short to be a maid_, Basil thought to himself.

"Towels, sir?" The maid muffled behind the soft material.

"Mm-hm." Basil removed his Inverness coat, followed by his Norfolk jacket, leaving on his brown waistcoat and white dress shirt. He then pulled out a map from his coat pocket to look over the streets we had yet to follow to our next destination. Soft footfalls returned to the side of the bed, followed by a minor gasp. "Expecting a tip?" Basil turned to face her and equally gasped.

"M-Mr. Basil?" The maid quipped.

Basil stood up and stared down at her. "Miss....Flamershame?"

**********

A/N: End of chapter 4. I apologize for the delay. This chapter needed a major rewrite and it took me a while to complete it. Nicole, I really wanted to contact you, but I have no way of doing so without a signed in account. Thank you for reading so far and I hope you like this new chapter!

The African child was almost eliminated when there was yet a new change in the plot, but when another idea came up, she was put back in, becoming very vital to the story. Her background information is important news as well. The owl bit was a last-minute decision, but I'm glad I put it in. It was my favorite part to do out of the whole chapter. Harriette Welsh, by the way, was inspired by another fictional character whose name (with some altered spellings) fit perfectly for what she was supposed to do with Basil and Dawson. Look up author Louise Fitzhugh to see what I mean.

Grace, I did some homework on your discussion about the white pins and it was a very interesting read! In _The Great Mouse Detective_ movie, the voodoo doll was pierced with all white pins and white stands for good karma. If Ratigan wanted to do harm on Basil, he should have used black or pink for death or negative energy. I'd like to think Ratigan was unaware of this good karma symbol, thus giving Basil such a high advantage of outwitting him. I assumed removing the white pins (like Dawson did in chapter one) also removes the good karma. The voodoo doll in this story is not only designed differently than the average stick and moss version, but it also has a much stronger spirit within. A powerful item is inside to allow it to drain the positive energy on Basil. With Ratigan dead, it would seem that the spells and energy meant to harm his adversary would come to an end when it has no reason for further suffering. Yet, I'm doing a twist where the death of the professor caused more evil and hatred into the doll itself. It's all fiction, enjoy it, please!


	5. Chapter 5: Unexpected Reunion

Chapter 5: Unexpected Reunion

Basil:

Of all the places in all of Great Britain, I never thought I would find myself gawking at the child whom I last saw depart from my residence over a month ago. The coincidence of encountering her at this precise moment had to have a reasonable explanation, and I was bound to know everything even if it meant a loss of much-desired sleep. What was she doing here at this run-of-the-mill inn? That is, I could clearly see what she was doing from her servant's uniform, but why? She stood firm with a stare I could have done without, and yet, I found myself mirroring the exact expression.

"Uncle Basil, it- it is you!"

Uncle? I decided to ignore the word and peer down to her with crossed arms.

"Indeed. And what, may I ask, are you doing here dressed like a servant? Does your father know about this?" The question was obviously a painful one, for I began to see her eyes welling up with tears and her bottom lip trembling. With her in such a delicate state, I softened the words of my little interrogation. "What has happened? Where is your father?"

"He...he is in hospital. So much has happened since I last wrote that...oh, here..." she carefully pulled a letter from her apron pocket and unfolded the creases. "I was going to mail this to you, but I never got the chance." I took the note and read it to myself:

_6 August 1897_

_Dear Mr. Basil,_

_Thank you for the doll! I'm very fond of them. Something is wrong with Daddy. He was taken to hospitel. We got your wire. Are we in danger? Write soon._

_Olivia Flaversham_

I lowered the paper and started to scrunch it in the palm of my hand. Oh, drat! This was not supposed to happen! I glanced at the date of the letter again and scowled at it. My witness told me the thug had the Rat Trap dancer mail the doll out to her, that much I already knew, but the warning in my wire, why did she ignore it? It must have arrived to her before the doll. I was assured it would within twenty-four hours.

"Where is this doll now?"

"It's right here-" I cut her off with a gasp as she pulled the thing out from her pocket. My knees suddenly buckled and I was inches from falling upon the floor. I heard her ask me what was wrong, but her voice, though soft to begin with, sounded distant from my ears.

"The doll..."

"What about it?"

"I...I did not send it to you..."

"Basil, you're frightening me. What's happening to you-"

"Stop," I rasped when she started to move closer. "Put it away, get it out of my sight. Now!" The child rushed over to place the doll inside the bathroom with a slam to the door. I was not pretending this time as I had done prior with Dawson. I sensed a weakness moving through my body the moment I laid eyes upon the doll. With a grunt, I stood up and staggered over to the bed. It was not long before she returned to my side and clambered at my knees in a desperate plea of an explanation. In due time, little one, in due time.

"What happened to you? Basil, please..." she begged with tears approaching faster than I could reply. I swallowed and took in a few breaths to allow myself to calm down. The child climbed onto the bed and began to tap repeatedly at my shoulder. She always held a deep concern for my well-being, but I was beginning to tire of her actions. "Please, Basil, please tell me what happened, please tell me-"

"All right, all right, calm yourself before they tote us both out of here." I huffed and turned to push her down to a seated position. "I suppose there is no chance in hiding it from you now." Sighing, I simply replied, "That...gift of yours is a voodoo doll, and I, unfortunately, am cursed by it."

"What's a voodoo doll?"

"What's a-" I blinked rapidly in surprise. "Oh, my dear, surely you have heard of such a thing before?" The child shook her head no. How unfortunate her father sheltered this poor girl moreover than I realized. Whether it would anger him or not was his own affair, and it did not concern me in the least. She was now involved in this situation, therefore, it was important for her to know of its meaning. Though, with her so young and fragile, I calmly attempted to explain without trying to upset her further.

"A voodoo doll is a tool created by one highly skilled in magic. It is an ancient practice mainly used in African tribes to either bring good luck to loved ones or misfortune to enemies. The power is done through the figure of the intended victim with the use of their personal items upon it. The same material from my own hat and coat, for example, were used to create it. Do you understand?" Miss Flaversham nodded a little. "Being that it was a doll created of me, the creator made it in the attempt to do me harm, especially when the previous owner of the doll was none other than Professor Ratigan-"

"Oh!" The child exclaimed and covered her mouth. "Oh, s-sorry...um..."

"No, it's all right," I said gently. "What is it?"

"It's just that... I've seen it!" The child pointed to me. "When I was kidnapped by Fidget and brought to Daddy, I saw an identical doll of you only it had pins in it. Is it the same one I now have?"

"Yes, it is," I nodded slowly.

"And you're cursed by it?"

"Yes, I am," I nodded again, looking skyward.

"Oh, Basil. I had no idea, none at all about it." The tears returned to her wide eyes as she leaned upon my shoulder. I briefly looked sideways into her frowning, sorrowful gaze and could only shrug in response. "How did this happen to you? That is, how did you get the doll from Ratigan?"

I explained everything I could, from the start of the doll coming into my home by the inspectors until Dawson and I departed from the train. Her own story was just as intriguing as she unraveled her suspicions of why she received the doll, why her father suddenly turned ill, and why he would enlist the aid of a competitor in the toy making business. When she did not know why he would ask a competitor for help, I focused more on the other subjects.

"Can you recall any detail on the doll's parcel and when exactly it arrived to you?"

"It came on Thursday," she began. "Your name and address was on the parcel, but the writing looked...different-"

"Describe it."

"It was...it was very pretty, like a lady's writing." She paused and frowned a little. I nodded, urging her to continue. "Oh, and...and there wasn't a note like when you sent me the book. Daddy was very suspicious of this new gift. He wondered why you would send me a doll of you." I would wonder that myself.

"When did he fall ill?" I asked softly.

"Same night. He sat down next to me and said he wasn't feeling well. And then, when he stood up, he just...fell down." She paused again. Having to repeat a trauma was always a difficult manner for any of my clients. I had to be patient with each of them, especially with children. I reached out a hand to lightly tap her shoulder. "S-sorry."

"No need to apologize, my dear. Please, take as much time as you need."

Miss Flaversham nodded once and took a few breaths to recollect herself before continuing. As she sat quietly, I briefly recalled other children I helped in the past, noting they were no different in receiving the same amount of composure as an adult would. In one case I took a year ago, I was sent to question a small child whom refused to leave his own bedroom. The poor chap was in such a state of shock, he could hardly move an inch. He was the sole witness to a murder so graphic, he developed psychiatric problems that required a number of mental rehabilitation sessions. His answers were slow in response and very succinct, but they proved vital in solving the case. Hearing a sigh, I looked up as Miss Flaversham went on with her story.

"Um...so then, I ran to our neighbor's for help. Daddy was taken away to hospital. They couldn't find anything wrong." When she paused for a third time, I chose this moment to ponder what she had relayed so far. Why would a voodoo doll harm another mouse when it was only after me? Perhaps it harmed anyone who doubt its power? I then began to ponder at my own questions, or the absurdness of how they sounded. Mr. Flaversham fell ill on his own, not from some invisible force of evil within a wretched doll. He was under a plentiful amount of stress from the shop restorations and lack of funds to cover it. That was plain and simple to deduce. As for my wire, I became more interested in knowing if she received it, let alone read it. I warned them not to open any suspicious items in the mail, and yet, here she had the cursed doll in her possession.

"You said you received the doll on Thursday, correct?"

"Yes."

"And when did you receive my wire?"

Her eyes blinked and she looked away. "Oh...um...Wednesday..."

"Ah..and did you actually read it?"

"Of course," her voice started to quiver. "W-we both read it."

"All right, then tell me this, why did you open that parcel the very next day after I clearly told you not to open anything from the postal service?"

"B-because it came from you."

I leaned back on the bed with a long inhale, followed by a slow exhale. She opened it because it came from me. It makes logical sense to open a parcel when the sender's name is someone you know. Of course! Why would she not open it?

"Well, that's a very practical answer. However, my concern here is you and your father chose not to heed a warning that arrived a full day ahead of time." My tone turned slightly strict, but I attempted to remain calm with her. "You received my urgent wire on Wednesday, you were warned not to open anything in the mail, and when the parcel arrived on Thursday, you still opened it. I cannot believe that..." I cut myself off and groaned heavily at the very idea of someone tricking a young innocent such as this. Miss Flaversham, unfortunately, assumed the whim was my regret to her error and bowed her head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Basil. I saw your name and thought you sent me another present. I- I didn't think anything bad would happen."

"Foul play, I'm afraid, is what happened." I stood to pace a little. "Both you and your father were fallen victims to it. I am beyond furious to whomever sent you that wretched doll, it has caused nothing but problems to everyone I know thus far." Before I could say another word, I turned to the quiet sound of sobs. The tears she was holding back so strongly were now sliding down her worn, red cheeks. "Oh, my dear..." I returned to her side with an extended hand to tap her shoulder in a small effort of condolence. "Come now, don't cry. Really, it was an honest mistake, it could have happened to anyone."

Sniffing, she garbled, "Y-you...y-you mean y-you're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" I lightly chuckled to those words. "Quite the contrary! Any anger I possess would definitely be towards whomever swindled you into believing you were receiving a gift from me. In truth, I am relieved no harm has come to you so far. No physical harm, that is." I resumed my seat beside her and offered an encouraging smile. When that did not lift her spirits, I carefully took one of her limp hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. She slowly turned her eyes up to mine and barely spoke above a whisper.

"I'm glad you're here, Basil. I never thought I would see you again."

"Nor I you, young lady. I never thought I would be helping you and your father for a second time. It seems I was wrong about that, yes?" She nodded quietly. "We will get through this. We have before and we will again. You were a brave girl to fight with the Napoleon of crime atop a high clock tower, therefore, I know you can be brave enough to handle a mere voodoo doll. Am I correct in this?" I felt a little pressure to my hand and smiled broadly. That was a good enough answer. "Ahh, that's the spirit. All right, here child...we do not want anyone on staff to think a guest has mistreated one of their own..." I stood up and retrieved a handkerchief from the vanity table, applying it to her cheek. "Dry your eyes before you go."

Miss Flaversham nodded and accepted the handkerchief from my hand into her own. I only turned away for a moment when I felt our conversation had ended and she was ready to depart the room. I had not expected anything more but a simple parting comment and the sound of my door closing. I was sadly mistaken.

"Mr...Basil?"

"Hmm?" Turning back to her, I looked to see she had left the bed and was wrapping her small arms around my waist. I blinked and stared down upon her form embracing my lower half. This display of affection has happened before, and I was once more unprepared for it.

"Thank you for helping Daddy and I...again," she replied with a sniff. In my awkward stance, the only thing I could do for a reply was nod quietly. "And I...I will be more careful from now on."

A single eyebrow raised up to that sentence. "Might I have your word on that?"

"Yes. I promise."

Miss Flaversham returned to her duties while I chose this time to lay face down and close my eyes for as long as I could. I did not bother to remove my shoes, either. I was so exhausted, a deep sleep arrived as soon as I placed my head upon the soft pillow. I was not sure how long I slept, only that it was enough to feel more stronger and alert. Once my eyes popped open on their own, I sat up and looked around the room. It was much lighter than before with a low sun and some scattered clouds outside the window. I sat up more and pulled my watch out from my waistcoat pocket. It read half past nine, plenty of time to wash in the bath before meeting with Dawson and Miss Flaversham.

I entered the bathroom and took a moment to gaze at the surroundings. It was quite a luxurious bathroom for such a small inn. The tub itself glistened a clean shade of off-white marble and the length was perfect enough for my entire form to fit nicely in. The depth of it, oh, if I wanted to drown myself, I could easily slip down and never return to the water's surface again. I calmly unbuttoned my waistcoat, followed by the removal of my other garments, and took a moment to pause at the shoulder-length mirror above the sink. Were those wrinkles near my eyes from years of squinting through a magnifier, or for my continual aging to fifty? I shrugged tiresomely before I turned to twist the faucet to release the clear water into the tub. Drumming a few fingers on the rim, I watched the water slowly rise and fill the bottom. Due to the depth of the tub, this was going to take a little time to get the water at a decent level. I wrapped a towel around my waist and sat on the rim of the tub, going into a numb state of watching the tepid water flow endlessly into the tub. Minutes slowly ticked on within that small room where I could do nothing but let my mind wander.

As I sat and waited for my bath, I thought over what Miss Flaversham and I talked about earlier. She really was not a bad girl after all. In fact, I would say I had grown quite fond of her. This was only our second encounter, and it felt as though I had known her much longer. Before leaving my room, she confessed she had been on the run since Friday. Her neighbor became an unfriendly mouse, treating her poorly by blaming her for her father's illness. She ran from his home and got as far as this inn, seeking shelter with the help of one of the maids. She put on a servant act when the police started looking for her. It was at that point she almost mailed her final letter to me, but never got the chance. I never would have known any of this if we did not meet here so unexpectedly. Miss Flaversham had found me and so had...the doll.

I turned to look at the tub; the water had reached a high point to sink into and enjoy for a good twenty minutes or so. I stood up, placed the towel on the rack, and slipped into an earthbound pool of heaven. Paradise, I am unfortunate to say, had to wait once more. It does not cease to fail. Whenever I am unavailable, I am needed to help in some sort of catastrophe. The minute I climbed into the warm, soothing waters of the large and very deep bathtub, my front door started knocking, and not just normal knocking. It was fast and heavy raps. Now was the time to decide if I wanted to drown myself or deal with this situation.

"Not now..." I groaned, looking skyward. "Not now, not now..."

"Basil! Basil!" It was her again, or the fake maid as I have decided to dub her. "Basil, are you in there?" Of course I was, where else would I be? I had just wrapped the towel around my waist when she came bursting through not the front door, but the door that protected my one shred of privacy. I gave her a scolding look while she gasped at my half-exposed self.

"This had better be an emergency," I began with a low, irritated tone, "or a certain child will end up in the Thames-"

"I'm sorry, Basil! It's just that you're in trouble, you and Dr. Dawson. I overheard maids talking and they were planning to rid of you both!" The child said all this while turning her head and trying to shield her eyes from my current indecency. That was an appreciative gesture, but it did not help knowing she still caught a glimpse of what I was wearing, or lack of wearing, that is. Only two things were important to me, and they were being in trouble and so-called maids wanting to rid of us. I was determined to hear everything she knew...after, of course, I was more presentable.

"All right, you...out, wait for me in the hall, quickly...go!" I motioned her out of the bathroom and then turned to pull the plug on my paradise of a bath. I returned to my room to find she had disappeared, or went to wait in the hall as I had requested. Good, I would rather not have a child in the same room as I dressed. Even if she did shield her eyes, it was very improper and highly rude. The idea alone of her bursting into the bathroom was unacceptable to begin with, but I had to forgive her when she brought forth important news. I quickly applied my clothes despite that they would stick to my damp fur, grabbed my belongings, and met with her in less than five minutes. She looked up at me with guilt worn all over her face.

"Sorry about that, Basil," her small voice muttered.

"Do you see how I look now?" I gestured down to my full attire. "This is how I prefer you to see me for the rest of your life and beyond, understand?" She nodded and looked away as if I was still wearing nothing but a towel. I cleared my throat and continued. "Ahem, now then, what is this about Dawson and I in trouble? Explain yourself!"

It all started to make sense once she revealed more valuable information for me. We were constantly on watch by eyes in the shadows, and it was foolish of us not to take the train from London in disguise. The young child may have been spirited away on the train, but that still left us to follow after them and someone jumped on our own trail to put a stop to our pursuit. That someone had to be none other then that Harriette Welsh. She was a spy, there was no doubt about it. She sent friends of hers to come looking for us at this very inn. Miss Flaversham was fortunate that these watchers of ours did not know what she looked like, nor did they know she was a friend, an advantage when she carried my voodoo doll. Even now as we spoke, I feared we were being watched, any maid I turned to seemed like they were not what they appeared to be.

"We cannot wait till the evening to depart. We've got to get Dawson now." I looked down as she tugged at my coat.

"Basil, wait, my satchel, it has my regular clothes and some belongings in it. I stashed it in a broom closet. I can't leave without them." Her voice dropped lower. "The doll is in there, too."

"All right, show me the way, quickly!" Taking my hand, she pulled me down a long hallway, stopping short at the sound of voices. I pulled her off the path and hid around the corner until they passed by. Once it was safe to move, she broke free of my grasp and started to run faster. "Young lady, wait!" I hissed and grabbed for her arm.

"Sorry...this way, Basil..." The child ran down another hall leading to a single door and a dead end. I cringed to the sound of the hinges creaking as she opened the door of the broom closet. Moving inward, she pulled out her satchel and showed it to me.

"All right, good. Go change your clothes and wait for us in there-"

"Wait, you're leaving me?"

"Only for a moment." I turned around when I heard more voices getting louder. "Get in there, now-"

"Basil, I'm scared." She had to inform me as if I was not aware of it. "Please, don't leave me-"

"Child, I have to get to Dawson before someone else does!" I ushered the girl inside with a brief hand to cup her chin to look my way. "Whatever happens, don't leave this closet at any time."

"Yes, Basil," she whispered and was gone from view within the darkness of the closet.

Turning around, I heaved a sigh and began my long trek back to Dawson's room. He should be up by this hour; he usually was when he was hungry for Mrs. Judson's cooking. The return to his room took a few detours when I overheard voices approaching my path. I slid against the shadows and hid alongside ghastly potted plants. It was only the sounds of a young couple leaving their room and making their way to the staircase. This meant a maid was probably patrolling the floor and I had to avoid those women at all costs. We needed help. I had to get these two out of the inn and some place safe. I soon thought of a name, someone who could help us, and made a detour to find the nearest staircase leading down the lobby. I was thankful for the rise in our technology near the end of this century, but the device I needed was still quite scarce. Only businesses and wealthy homes began installing these strange objects called telephones, and I had hoped to find one sitting at the desk of this inn. To my sheer luck, such a model was found next to the clerk as he sat writing in the large registry book.

"Good day, sir. Can I help you?"

"Yes, I need to make a long distance connection to a shop in London."

"All right, sir, but I should note there is a charge for such requests, and with a long distance connection, it will cost you more-"

"Then, add it to my bill!" I snapped with a growing irritation. Quickly regaining a more civil attitude, I replied, "Please, no more dilly-dallying. It is imperative that I use the phone right now!"

"Yes, right away sir." He turned to the unusual brass object and moved it closer to me. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not at all, but here." I hastily pulled out the money for both of our rooms as well as whatever the cost of the connection. "The doctor and I will be checking out a lot sooner than planned."


	6. Chapter 6: The Mysterious ML Mouse

Chapter 6: The Mysterious ML Mouse

For an inn that does not look too promising on the outside, I slept most comfortably in a peaceful room all to myself in a soft, warm bed. I rose feeling like a new mouse, washed up in the bathroom, and dressed before my pocket watch read ten thirty on the dot. I wondered how Basil slept in his room, that is, if he did at all? He was just as worried as I about this case, perhaps even more that he probably did not sleep at all. My pondering soon ceased when I received a sharp knock at the door. Expecting a maid to enter, I prepared a 'good morning, miss' to her. Instead, a flash of a mouse darted in to grab for my belongings.

"Good, you're awake! Come on!"

"Er, Basil? What is it? What--"

"There is no time to explain, old chap. Hurry!" Basil threw my knapsack in my direction along with pushing me out the door. Thank goodness I packed the moment I awoke or else I would not have had the chance. Reaching for my hat last, I felt those fierce pair of hands shoving me forward into the hall.

"My goodness, Basil, can we even stop to eat--"

"We are no longer safe here, Dawson, we cannot stop for anything or anyone, now come on." I realize I am not a thin mouse in comparison to my friend, but somehow, he possessed a strength so powerful, he could pull me clear across a busy street without pausing to take a breath. Many visions began to flash across my mind such as mice chasing us or bullets flying in our direction. I was unable to question what the trouble was; I simply could not get an explanation out of him edge-wise.

"Basil, please, I do not understand--"

"This way!" Basil dragged me down a hallway and over to what appeared to be a shabby broom closet. Opening the door, my eyes widened and I tried to hold back the sound of a large gasp. I looked down and smiled to the form that stood before me with excitement.

"Dr. Dawson--!"

"O- Olivia--?"

"Get in there!"

Basil shoved me into the closet with himself following suit. Slamming the door behind him, all three of us were plunged into a stuffy room of complete darkness. I tried to move to a safe corner and ended up tripping over the stick of a broom. My clumsy feet caused the stick end to lift forward and hit me in the face. Yes, that was extremely painful.

"Yeowch!"

"Dawson, be quiet!" Basil hissed to me.

"Why? What in blazes is going on--"

"Dr. Dawson, please..." Miss Flaversham whined before Basil shushed her. It was then I started to wonder if this was some practical joke. It was far from April Fool's Day and I did not think Basil was the type of mouse who pulled devious pranks on others. My answer soon came that this was no laughing matter of any kind. We waited no more than ten seconds when I suddenly heard voices outside the closet. They were certainly feminine, and I could only assume it was maids on their usual rounds of the hallways. And then, I was not so certain anymore when I heard them speak:

"He was not in his room, I already checked."

"What about the fat one that was with him?"

"He's gone, too. They must be somewhere in the inn with the new girl."

"They have her?"

"Yes, she was not at her post. Keep looking."

"Oh, oh my--" I accidentally blurted out and Basil shushed me once more. I had a bad habit of speaking when I was not supposed to. Fear began to set upon me as well and I could do nothing but tremble in one spot. Quiet minutes ticked on until Basil slowly began to move over to the door of the closet.

"Wait here." He told us softly. It was then I noticed Miss Flaversham had attached herself to Basil's lower half, for when he pulled her away, she quickly latched onto the next available mouse, and quite abruptly I might add. I could not blame the poor girl; she was too frightened to stand alone. Basil's form grew lighter as he approached the side of the closet door.

"Basil, be careful--"

"Sh-sh-shh..." Basil waved a dark hand to me while twisting the knob and carefully opening the door. A thin line of light began to increase as he slowly opened the door wider and poke just his head out to look around. "They appear gone for the moment. Stay close and do not utter a single word."

Basil led us both out of the broom closet and turned another path leading down a long corridor. Miss Flaversham had pulled away from my side by then, but was soon squeezing my hand to the extent of almost cutting off my blood circulation. I was very thrilled to see her, but also wondered why she was at the inn and later discovering she was once dressed like a maid. I took note she carried a satchel across her chest. She must have had a whale of a tale to tell us both, and I was certain to give her my undivided attention at the next given chance. For the moment, I was at a loss for any sort of understanding to our predicament. I had no clue where we were headed, how Miss Flaversham appeared in Basil's care once more, or why we were suddenly on the most wanted list of this inn. All I knew is we needed to escape as quickly and as quietly as possible. Despite our current danger, I secretly hoped Basil had somehow paid for our rooms.

The end of the hall led us through a door to a darkened stairwell leading up or down. Basil took the stairs leading up and onward to another floor of the inn. Instead of going through the door leading to the next floor of rooms, he pushed his way through a hole in the wall slightly boarded up with pieces of wood. Miss Flaversham followed next and I assisted in pushing her through this new found exit. It was a cumbersome hole, very small for me to fit through, and I struggled to try and keep up with the thinner, faster pair. I was glad I took up the rear when my round belly kept getting stuck along the ground of this dreadful hole. I finally sucked in a breath and pushed myself through the hole, relieved to see a bit of daylight at the end of the tunnel. To my dismay, it was not outside, but a room with enormous furniture. We had entered an inn above our own for the humans.

"Basil, why did you bring us up here?" He did not silence me; I sighed when I was glad to speak freely once more. He looked behind him to the hole we had just come through and then in the direction of the tunnel leading to the inn of the human world.

"They will not look for us here, I can assure you both we are safe for now, but not safe from those clumsy humans. Keep to the shadows and follow me." Basil took Miss Flaversham by the hand this time and led the way through the remainder of the tunnel and out into the open of the inn.

"Wait, I smell food..." Miss Flaversham pulled away from Basil to sniff the air. She spied a human carrying a tray covered with something we all knew was bound to be an enormous amount of delicious items. I took an identical whiff of the air and sighed heavily, feeling my stomach rumble with hunger. It was a heavenly essence of warm buttermilk flapjacks, maple syrup, melted butter and crisp bacon that wavered in my direction. Miss Flaversham wore an identical face to that of a hungry street child. All she needed was a plate in her small paws and a quivering lip begging to fill up the empty space with numerous goods.

"Would it be too much to ask to stop and get some food, Basil?" I turned to my friend who looked greatly annoyed to both of us. His own expression soon softened a little at the realization we had gone without food for far too long. "It is well past the time to eat and I fear I cannot go much further without some serious nutrition."

Basil huffed slightly. "True, however, it is a rule within our society that we do not steal from the humans, Dawson. You know that."

"Yes, but, even in a emergency such as this?" Basil went to speak, but happened to notice Miss Flaversham sad gaze also waiting for an answer. "As it is, we have not eaten for several hours, possibly since yesterday evening before you left to meet with that witness." Basil turned to look at me as if a light bulb switched on over his head.

"Ms Laveaux."

"Who?"

"I know exactly where we can go."

"What? Where?"

"Come on!"

Taking Miss Flaversham's hand again, Basil pulled her at a faster pace along the shadows and through another tunnel on the other side of the long hall. Within this tunnel were several steep ramps leading downward to the bottom floor of the inn. Upon reaching the lobby of the inn, Basil made a bold attempt by racing across the floor to the exit. Thankfully, no one saw us, and we continued through the main door and out onto the street where we would once again risk exposure. Basil led us down the street and to what appeared to be a homeless shelter. As we neared the building, Miss Flaversham suddenly paused without warning. It was a good thing I noticed or I would have fallen into her.

"My dear, what is it?" I asked in concern.

"N-nothing, just...out of breath." She panted and removed the strap of her satchel. Whatever was in it seemed to weigh her down. Basil decided to take the satchel from her, but that did not seem to help relieve her exhaustion. His face turned to some irritation next, and yet, he still held a small ounce of sympathy.

"Come on, child, it is not much further--"

"S-sorry...I...I can't...breathe..." She coughed a little and clutched at her chest. I knew nothing of her family history, but judging by this sudden shortness of breath, it would not surprise me if she was cursed with the psychosomatic condition known as asthma. It was a pity I did not have any mustard with me. Basil bent slightly with a tap to her shoulder, his own brows knitted close together.

"Can you at least walk the rest of the way?" Tapping her shoulder once more almost sent her down had he not reached out to catch her. "Whoa, all right, ah...obviously not." Basil passed her satchel in my direction, not realizing he slammed it a little too harsh into my chest. "Hold this, Dawson, if you please. Oh, and this..." I had my own knapsack upon my shoulders the entire time, but now with the addition of her satchel and his small pack to carry, I began to feel as if I were a luggage trolley on two feet. With a mild groan, he lowered himself down to her level. Her quizzical stare matched alongside of mine.

"What are you doing?" She had to ask him.

"Seeing how the view looks to you down here." A smug grin had to go with that sarcastic remark before he confessed he was about to do a very generous deed. "Hop on -- quickly, before I change my mind." I could hear him muttering under his breath that he could not believe what he was doing. Those words soon fell to silence after Miss Flaversham jumped onto his back. I cringed to the sight. It was like watching a young bear cub hopping onto an aging hallow tree branch.

"Oh, Basil! Are you all right--"

"Quite all right, Dawson." I constantly forgot he had enormous strength in those two thin arms of his. The detective easily returned to his upright stance without any signs of a struggle. I pouted to a boasting smirk he could not hide as he curled his arms under her legs and adjusted her to his upper back.

"Now, don't --" Turning to the side, he could see her face mere inches from his, apparently too close for his liking. Miss Flaversham grinned broadly to his otherwise annoyed gaze. They certainly were an amusing pair; I could write a full book of these little incidents and sell it to a theatre company. They could surely turn them into a number of comedic acts. "Ahem!"

"Sorry." She shyly replied and pulled back.

"Don't expect me to make a habit out of this." Basil paused and looked my way. He must have heard my own quiet wheezing, a sound I tried to minimize the best that I could. I knew I did not have any signs of asthma in my family's history of health. My excuse, or curse rather, was being overweight, something I knew my friend often frowned upon. "I'm afraid I can't carry you both, and I don't plan on seeing if I can."

"I can make it, Basil." I replied with the pout remaining.

"As for you," he looked to the mouse attached to his back once more, "...hold on tight--" Basil suddenly gagged when she apparently began to squeeze off oxygen at the neck. "Not that tight..." With a glint of agitation in his eyes, he started to run at his fastest speed, finding it a little difficult now with a passenger on board. "Come on, Dawson--"

"Er, wait, who is this Ms Laveaux--"

"You will soon find out all you wish to know. Come on!"

Several mice turned their heads in our direction as we entered the homeless shelter. And here I thought London was a sight for sore eyes to these street urchins. Families of two or more huddled together in small groups with various rags of clothing upon their forms. Small children clung to their mothers while even smaller infants held on to their necks. It was mostly women and children I saw in this room with the occasional male hobo sitting by himself or talking to another for comfort. Basil walked over to what appeared to be an official mouse of the shelter and exchanged a few silent words with her. Nodding, the woman walked away as Basil carefully lowered Miss Flaversham to the ground. I approached his side and said the first thing that came to mind.

"What in the world are we doing here?"

"You are still hungry, yes?"

"Famished, but you still have not said--"

"Have a seat, Dawson. I will explain everything as we eat."

The three of us were given a delicious and hearty meal. I half-expected something simple such as a boring broth or a dried-out slice of bread. No, this shelter had good food and good amounts of it. Basil was the last to sit down at our table with a nod to the woman he first talked to at the entrance. He pretended not to notice when Miss Flaversham smiled up at him.

"Thank you for--"

"There is no need to thank me." He snapped gently and cleared his throat. "Though, you are...feeling better now, yes?"

"Yes. Much better--"

"Very good, very good." Basil turned to the sound of my own throat clearing. I was anxiously staring at him.

"Well, Basil, the floor is yours."

Although he too was hungry, his food barely went touched when he explained everything I needed or wished to know. I finally discovered the true identity of the witness he had been receiving valid information on our case. It was a female named Madeline Laveaux, an expert in the practice of Voodism and daughter to a famous and often misunderstood witch doctor. Marie Laveaux was her mother, born and raised in America in the heart of New Orleans, Louisiana. Ms Laveaux traveled the world after turning eighteen, taking up residency in London to study at becoming an apothecary. Her skills were extraordinary and her knowledge of herbs and medicines were exceptional. Her hidden talent and true desire to follow in her mother's footsteps gave society something to talk about. Her background was no secret and many soon feared the very sight of her. When unusual events occurred, she received a blame for it, but she always got out of severe punishments. Scotland Yard constantly watched her every move while Basil constantly informed them she was good, not evil.

"And being the witness to the break-in at our home was no coincidence?"

"No. She is a good friend and I would trust her with my life. Once those inspectors brought over the doll to my home, I immediately went to go talk with her. That was where I went Monday night...while you went to visit Ms Rosenberg." Basil could have smacked a feather at me and I would have fallen to the ground. I stared at him in absolute shock.

"H-how d-did you know I went--"

"Ms Laveaux works as a part-time assistant at her store." He smirked a little to my dropped jaw. "Believe me Dawson, I know all about it.

"Now, steady on, Basil. If Ms Laveaux is also the witness, then she must be the same girl who worked at the factory with that African child."

"Right you are, Dawson." Basil nodded. "She worked with the child before changing professions. The other workers and head of the factory began to feel uncomfortable with her presence, and Ms Laveaux felt it best to move on to another job. In truth, she really has not been able to stay in one place for very long when rumors start up about her family background."

"Such a shame." I muttered and Basil agreed with a low 'mm-hmm.' "And the child? Did she stay with the factory?"

"No, she ran away when they turned abusive on her. It is fortunate to say Ms Laveaux came across her by accident...or perhaps fate brought them together again?" I shrugged, unable to give an answer. I looked to Miss Flaversham. Her eyes were half-closed and her head rested against one arm.

"Did Ms Laveaux know about your doll?"

Basil shook his head. "No, she was not aware of the doll, nor of who made it the night I talked to her. She left the factory before the child was asked to make it for the professor." He went to speak further, but paused to the amusing stare I suddenly developed along with pointing downward beside his arm. Either Miss Flaversham grew greatly bored with our conversation or she finally lost the will to stay awake. Basil tapped her arm and softly asked, "Had a long day, haven't you?" I could not help but chuckle to the sight of a sleeping child at the table.

"The poor dear must be exhausted. Is there some place she can rest properly?"

"You need not ask, Dawson." Basil said quietly as he rose to his feet. "After all, this is a shelter, and what these homes will provide is good food as well as a place to rest one's head." My friend stepped away for only a few minutes to speak with the same woman again, nodding to her words, and then returning to collect our weary traveler. We moved away from the main front hall, down a dark hallway and into a small, cold room full of rows of empty cots. Only one mouse occupied a cot and they were fast asleep against the wall. Basil turned to an empty cot beside the door and lowered the girl down with careful ease.

"There you go, just rest for now--"

"Oh...Basil, wait...wait!" Miss Flaversham's voice squeaked as she suddenly sat up and clutched the front of his coat. Basil quickly took her hand and shushed her. "Don't go yet. I just remembered something important..." Basil waited with an eager stare at her. "The toymaker, the one Daddy was supposed to meet...she is arriving to our shop tomorrow."

"Ahhh..." Basil nodded and tapped her hand. "What time is the meeting?"

"Daddy said nine in the morning." Her tired expression frowned before him. "He's going to miss it, he never got the chance to cancel...not when he..." Her forehead fell onto his chest as she broke down with a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow. Basil suddenly grinned at me as if he solved the crime of the century. That shady toymaker never did tell us the date nor the time of the meeting, but with this little one on our side, the information was given on a silver platter.

"Calm yourself, my dear." Basil pulled her back and smiled. "There is plenty of time to alert this toymaker the change in plans."

"R-really? How?" Miss Flaversham asked with a head turning between myself and Basil.

"Tut, tut, let that be a worry upon our heads, not yours." Basil started to rise once more while lowering her back onto the cot.

"Maybe you could go to Daddy's shop and leave a note or..." she paused to yawn and blink her heavy eyelids, "...tell her yourself..."

"Right, right, whatever works..." Basil nodded a little and tapped her chest. Opening her eyes, she looked up to me and pointed to her satchel.

"Wait...there is a key inside my bag. The front door is unlocked...forgot to lock it when I left." Yawning twice, she looked to Basil again. "Could you lock it when you leave?"

"As you wish." Basil stood up and said to me, "Hold on to her satchel at all times. Never put it down." He spoke to me in such a soft whisper, I almost did not hear his exact words. He told me to hold on to it and that was all I needed to know. I watched him look over to the sleeping mouse against the wall and sigh heavily. Nodding, I did as I was told by placing the strap across my chest. Before we left the room, my friend whispered minor words to Miss Flaversham that I could not hear. I believe it was along the lines of speaking to no one and avoiding anyone who acted suspicious to her.

We both returned to the eating area where he finished unraveling his explanations. He began by explaining all that happened at the inn, how Miss Flaversham appeared in disguise and had with her the voodoo doll itself inside the satchel! I had to listen carefully when he lowered his voice several notches down. Although we were in a safe place, who knows who could be listening in on our conversation? Nowhere was safe, it seemed.

"Basil, how do you know all this, and tell me, what do you know that I should know?"

"What I do know is that we are dealing with a very delicate case." He looked around and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Ms Laveaux knew we were coming out here, and she told me if we needed a place to rest, she ran many different shelters for the homeless. We must go. We can leave the child here for now--"

"Leave her? Basil, are you sure she will be safe--"

"Do you insist on carrying her?" He interrupted me. "She has not slept in almost twenty-four hours, she needs her rest to restore her full energy." Standing up, he reapplied his deerstalker and headed for the exit. "Come on, there's not a moment to lose!"

**********

A/N: End of chapter six. This was at a point when I hit a major writer's block and never got back to the story for a very long time. Before I invented the ML mouse as a more important character, I had no clue what to do with these three or where they could go from the inn. The writer's block broke at the mention of the homeless shelter and flowed continuously afterward. As for the inn turning against the three, the idea came about after Miss Welsh went to get others to find and stop them. The name, Laveaux, by the way, was borrowed from a real Voudou practitioner named Marie Laveau (used a spelling variation for the story). Like her counterpart, she was often misunderstood and feared by many.


	7. Chapter 7: Encounter at the Toy Shop

Chapter 7: Encounter at the Toy Shop

Basil and I ventured out from the entrance of the shelter onto Cateaton Street. The time was a little after four thirty in the afternoon, making the ground dangerous to us mice with the number of humans shuffling the sidewalks. A strong wind whipped up with an unusual chill for August. Clouds were beginning to form and darken in the sky, a sure sign we were soon to have another downpour. Before we could reach Flaversham's shop, we first needed to get our bearings and make sure we were heading in the correct direction. The shop was located on Market Street, and from Shambles Square, it did not seem too far of a distance…for a human, that is.

With map in hand, the two of us began our carriage hopping by first heading west on Cateaton Street toward Victoria, followed by a left onto Deansgate. Two more left turns brought us onto the streets of Dalton and Cross where we made a right turn onto King Street. I am certain my constant reply of, "Are you sure we're going the right way?" was bound to annoy Basil at any moment. Instead, he always replied with a simple "But of course!" After King Street, we took another left onto Spring Gardens, a right onto Marble, another left at Fountain and, at that point, I was beginning to see a line of several shops and hear the sounds of both mice and humans bustling all over the streets. Upon reaching Sickle Street, we found a long row of shops with an assortment of items in their windows. I had just stepped off the final cab when a young man ran into my shoulder.

"Oh, pardon me sir!" He gasped. The lad reached for my arm to keep me from falling. "I am so sorry! Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, no harm done." I said and readjusted my hat. "What's the big hurry my good man? You seem to be in a terrible rush."

"Actually, I am and I hope I am not too late." He looked between us both. "Would you gents happen to know your way around here?"

"Which way are you headed?" I asked, although judging by his attire of a three-piece suit, tie in a half-Windsor knot and a pristine bowler hat; it looked as if he were going to some important business meeting.

"Town Hall. He said hastily. "I have a meeting there at five sharp." By Jove, I was correct!

"A meeting on a Sunday afternoon?" Basil quipped. "That is a little unusual."

"It is, but lately there has also been an unusual rise in crime." The young man replied. "We're discussing plans for a better security system on the streets at night." Basil nodded slightly and lifted his map to look for the little square marked Town Hall. "I am fairly new to this area and still trying to get used to my way around. I was told to take Dalton onto Mulberry, but I have not been able to locate either one."

"Dalton is back the other way. Follow this route here." Basil moved his finger along the streets with the change up to Dalton and Mulberry. As he finished explaining the directions, he looked up to see a figure bound off the back of our carriage and dart behind a pile of rubbish. My attention was focused on the businessman as he shook my hand and proceeded to cross the street to a carriage facing the opposite direction.

"Good luck to you, sir." I tipped my hat.

"Thank you, gents! Cheers!"

Upon looking down Market Street, it seemed that increasing the security would be a good idea not only for the night hours, but for the daytime as well. The area was crawling with many beggars moving about in quiet attempts to pilfer those who passed them by. Basil became a concern to me after so many head turns to look behind him as we walked. I knew he was aware of the pickpockets, but there was something else that brought on my own head turning. Soon, he lifted his eyes up in the air, an act that meant he was listening for distinctive sounds. I finally had to ask what was troubling him.

"I just have that constant feeling of being watched, or worse, followed." He looked down at my arms freely to the sides. "Dawson, I am serious about gripping that satchel more tightly. Someone can easily snatch it if you are not careful." Indeed, someone tried that very instant, and Basil jumped at him so fast, I almost fell to the ground. I barely caught sight of my friend latching a fast hook onto the wrist of the thieving paw. In my own turn, I gasped to see it was a not a young boy, but a teenage girl, and a familiar one at that.

"M-Miss Welsh!"

"Well, if it isn't our owl-riding little spy!" Basil snapped, eyeing the child closely. She was wearing a disguise of mismatched sorts: a newsboy cap one size too large for her head and dressed as a street urchin with a dirty face and hands. Her green eyes and freckles gave her away when her spectacles of a trademark appeared to be missing. Basil looked down to her hand still holding the strap. In a low whisper, he uttered, "Let go of that now." Miss Welsh released the strap and started to run, finding it impossible when she was still held captive by Basil gripping her wrist.

"Please, ow- please, let me go -"

"Not until I get some answers out of you." He said with a grunt. "I was suspicious of you ever since we left Stockport, and it seems my suspicions were correct. You're working for that toy maker, Kenyatta Mosenthal, aren't you?"

Her answer was stomping upon his foot at full force. Basil howled and released her wrist, allowing her a chance to escape. The surprise of an attack left myself unprepared for her at a second attempt to snatch that satchel from my shoulder. In the blink of an eye, she was running down the street with Miss Flaversham's property in hand.

"Thief! Stop her!" I called out, knowing my slow speed was no match for hers. No one did anything to help us, and they did not need to when Basil was right on her tail despite the throbbing pain in his foot. Not only was he a fast runner, when it came to chasing someone, he added a little sprint to pursue his adversary better. The added anger from the assault made him charge at her faster with an outstretched hand to reach for the satchel. Within seconds the strap was in his grasp with his opposite arm wrapped around her waist. Basil ignored her protests of kicking and screaming as he carried her off to an alley, away from the path of the humans.

I caught all of this at a distance and began to jog up to them. I had just entered the alley where I witnessed Miss Welsh with her back against the brick wall and cowering in fright. It was a relief to see the satchel back in Basil's possession, but he paid a hefty price for its safe return. He stood slightly hunched over with a hand on his stomach, an area where she obviously punched him to break free. Taking a step closer gave her the chance to smack his shoulder next.

"Now, that is quite enough, you...maniacal delinquent!" He spat in a strained voice while trying to avoid her swinging arms. "Stop that at once!"

"Stay back!" Miss Welsh shouted with her arms waving and her fists curled. "Don't hurt me!"

"Don't hurt you?" Basil huffed. "That surely is the pot calling the kettle black. Young lady, would you please control yourself? I just want to talk."

"There is nothing I need to say to you, you...fake detective! You...phony!" She wailed.

Basil raised his brows and dropped his jaw. "I...beg your pardon?"

"You're not the real detective Basil! That's just a silly costume!" Miss Welsh was beginning to tire and slip down onto the ground.

"What is she talking about?" I asked Basil who could only blink in confusion.

"I have no idea, Dawson, but to brand me a fake detective in a silly costume is quite an insult! Hold this, please." Without looking, Basil carelessly slammed the satchel hard against my chest. He was very upset at this point, and for good reason, too. She stepped on his foot, punched him in the stomach, smacked at his arm, and now accused him of stolen identity. If she lived through this, I would be very surprised. I applied the satchel's strap to my shoulder as Basil attempted to step forward; relieved to see she was too exhausted to fight back. Soon, he reached her side and crouched down, resting one hand against the wall for support.

"Would you care to enlighten me on your babbling nonsense?" Miss Welsh said nothing except a slight huff of defeat. "Mm, I think it's time that you and I had a little chat."

Within the next half hour, we were given some of the most appalling news I had ever heard in my life. Miss Welsh was, as Basil suspected, a spy hired by Ms Mosenthal. They had met at Hamleys after we left the tutorial yesterday afternoon. Miss Welsh was an admirer of the toy maker. She questioned why she appeared nervous and received an answer she never would have expected. The woman filled the girl's head with so much fabrication against Basil that it surprised us both she did not realize she was being horribly duped. Basil listened quietly with arms crossed and head shaking in total disbelief.

"Let me get this straight. She told you I was a competitive toy maker whom dressed as the famous detective when really attempting to steal a job already offered to her daughter?"

Miss Welsh slowly nodded. "She also said she got those scratches on her face from getting into a fight with you."

"Now, that is absurd!" Basil made a scoff, pausing to take a moment to look down at his fingers. "I don't even have nails. Tell me you did not fall for that one as well?"

Miss Welsh began to blush. "I sort of believed her, but with that type of an attack, I was starting to think this competitive toy maker was also a female even though she said it was a male."

Basil rolled his eyes over to my direction. "Are you hearing all of this Dawson? Ms Charlatan told this child that not only am I a competitive toy maker whom likes to dress as a detective, I'm also a deranged male whom keeps his nails sharp to scratch at young lady's faces."

"A rather imaginative woman, isn't she?" I blinked rapidly.

"Indeed." Basil nodded. "She certainly has proven herself to be a better tall tale maker rather than a toy maker." He quickly whipped back to Miss Welsh and asked, "What happened next? How did you come about to accompany her to Manchester?"

"Well, I told her a little about myself, sir. I spy on many friends at school to get information." Her tone seemed a bit too proud of revealing this to us. "Ms Mosenthal felt I would be helpful to her if I came along, and if that evil toy maker started going after her, I could let her know and try to protect her from him."

"Right, I'd scratch her eyes out next with my invisible claws." Basil droned. It was now my turn to roll my eyes in utter disbelief at that unusual amount of ridiculousness. "So, then, you accompanied Ms Mosenthal on the train and she saw us in our compartment-"

"No, um…not exactly." Miss Welsh bowed her head shamefully. "I actually saw you instead of her. So, when I saw you, I…um…I…"

"You alerted her of our presence." Basil finished for her dryly.

Miss Welsh squeezed a tear down from each eye. "I'm so sorry, sir-"

"No, no. There is no need to apologize." He interrupted. "As her young emissary, you did your job to watch for some demonic face-scratching joker chasing her down dressed as a fake detective...by the way, Dawson, this will be quite an amusing part in your diary log." He paused to look to her mournful face and tapped her shoulder. "Come on, no more tears, there is nothing that can be done about it now." Basil looked my way and we exchanged pursed lips of silence. "Um, ahem, moving on, tell me what happened next, please?"

The next confession was the kidnapping of the little girl on the train. We both knew Ms Mosenthal was responsible for taking her, but as to why, only Miss Welsh nor I did not have a decent explanation. Basil seemed to know far more than he led on, but remained quiet as Miss Welsh told him every detail she could remember. As I recalled, the child took off in the dark and was obviously snatched up by either Ms Mosenthal herself or someone who was with her.

"Her daughter, Makalia, found her." Miss Welsh replied tearfully. "When she brought the child to her mother, she really looked scared. I was not allowed to ask questions, so I could only sit and observe everything. Ms Mosenthal first said, 'Hello child, remember me?' and I didn't understand what she meant. She started to cry and Ms Mosenthal said to her daughter she needed to make a detour to Southport to visit a friend there. I was told to stay behind to follow you while Ms Mosenthal unhooked your portion of the train."

"Southport? Who in the world was she visiting all the way out there?" I looked to Basil for an answer, but he was only giving off an intent stare.

"I don't know." Miss Welsh shrugged. "Before I went to wait by your compartment, I heard her say she was going to see another toy maker that made the little girl react with fear. I didn't catch her name, but I suspect they are old acquaintances from Africa." Basil now began to grind at his lower jaw at the mention of 'another toy maker' and I wondered what he was thinking when he only stood quietly. "Excuse me, sir, is the little girl in trouble?"

"If that other toy maker is who I think it is, then yes, she is in very big trouble." Basil said gravely, turning to me next. "And I just hope we are not too late to save her now."

"Is there anything more you can tell us?" I asked her next.

"There is one more thing." Miss Welsh paused, looking up to Basil nodding for her to continue. Her eyes slowly moved over to the satchel, making my own brows drop in confusion. "While we were on the train, Ms Mosenthal told me she lost one of her show dolls back in London and she has no idea where it had gone. In fact, no one riding with us could give an answer of what happened to it. But, I know."

"I'm listening." Basil replied when she took another long and dramatic pause. Miss Welsh crossed her arms and lowered her gaze back down on the satchel, never removing her eyes off of it. Basil pretended not to notice this while I, on the other hand, was becoming more confused by these unusual stares.

"Well, come on, child! Where is the doll?" I finally blurted out.

"Your little friend from the inn, the maid, she had the doll." Miss Welsh locked her eyes back on the satchel. "And now, it's inside that bag."

"What?" I gasped, looking to Basil, then to Miss Welsh. "No, it isn't! Is it Basil?"

"See for yourself, sir." Miss Welsh shrugged with a smirk. Stepping back, I took that moment to lift the satchel, unbutton the flap, and look inside. Sure enough, my eyes met with a smaller version of the detective staring upward at me. I began to feel very faint inside. "The aliases was a good trick, but I soon found your rooms at the inn." Miss Welsh said proudly. Basil still remained quiet and staring normally. "I overheard your conversation. The doll was mailed to Olivia Flaversham, that's the same last name of the toy maker Ms Mosenthal is going to visit."

"But, how did you know that we had the doll…that is…I didn't even know." I looked up to Basil now wondering why he never told me the doll was inside the satchel the whole time. Did he not trust me or could he never find the time to tell me? I was hoping for the latter.

"I've been following you since the inn, sir. I also saw you three at the shelter." Miss Welsh said calmly. "I know a lot more than Ms Mosenthal does."

I now began trying to piece in my head how long this child had been trailing us and without notice. We left her at the entrance of the Old Wellington Inn. That was the last we saw of her until now. She must have immediately turned around to keep on our trail, but to do it as quietly as possible. She was not working alone, proof of that was at the inn when maids were trying to find us. If she had been following us since the inn, then the shelter, that means she was in the same room under cover, listening in on everything we discussed. Much of it seemed greatly impossible, but with her doing this frequently with schoolmates, nothing was too impossible for her. I could see Basil was greatly impressed with her. When working against him, she was a terrible enemy, but when working alongside him, she could be very useful in finding information out for him.

"I must say your observing skills are rather impressive, my dear." Basil replied with a smug grin. "It's not every day I meet someone who could stand here and tell me everything they've done without my prior knowledge. Being watched, having my trail followed, listening in on my private conversations, you certainly have the makings of an incredible secret agent." Miss Welsh blushed a little.

"My dream is to be a detective of Scotland Yard, sir. I would do anything they asked of me, including taking a life if I had no other choice..." She lifted her eyes up to catch his lowering down. "Of those activities you mentioned, there is one more I was supposed to do." Basil and I exchanged glances as she sighed heavily. "I wasn't only sent to follow behind you two. I was sent to get rid of you...permanently." Basil appeared very calm upon hearing this while my eyes were now as wide as dinner plates.

"Come again?" I blinked.

"I'm supposed to kill you." Miss Welsh said as simply as asking to pass the sugar at a tea party. With a shaking hand, she pulled out a small revolver from her pocket. Basil remained like a statue with only his eyes moving down to the weapon.

"Good heavens!" I gasped, raising my arms. "Where did you get that?"

"Ms Mosenthal gave it to me. I'm meeting her at Flaversham's shop tonight at seven." She looked between us as she spoke. "She told me to get rid of you both, no matter what it took. When I found out you had the doll, I only wanted to steal it and bring it to her, telling her that you were dead."

"Did she really think you could rid two grown mice?" I asked next, making Basil wave a hand.

"Don't underestimate her, Dawson. She is perfectly capable of doing such a task, the fact that she hasn't yet makes it obvious she never wanted to do the deed in the first place." Basil looked back down to her and the gun. "It's not in her blood to kill others…is it?"

"I only want the doll, sir." Her voice began to stammer with the tears returning. "I don't want to shoot you to get it."

"What does Ms Mosenthal think this is, some sort of game?" I asked, now unable to take my eyes off the gun either.

"I thought it was." Miss Welsh confessed. "This whole trip, I...I thought it was some sort of game the way she first described it to me. A competitive toy maker wearing a detective's costume, chasing her to steal a job in another town, it all sounded ludicrous. When her daughter kidnapped that girl on the train, I was starting to wonder if it was still a game. She gave me the gun and a promise of a big reward of killing you and getting the doll to her. So..." Miss Welsh inhaled and quickly exhaled. "Fifty pounds to do it all."

"Well, my dear, if that's how it's going to be then, by all means, shoot us." Basil said with a polite-sounding voice. Miss Welsh looked at him in disbelief. "Go ahead, you have my full permission to end our lives."

"Speak for yourself, Basil." I mumbled.

"Then, just me. Come on." Basil coaxed, nodding and gesturing to her.

"I don't want to sir, so just give me the doll, all right?" The gun was now trembling in her hand as Basil crossed his arms.

"Over my dead body."

"I'm very serious, sir, I will shoot you if I have to." Miss Welsh said in her most adult-sounding voice she could do. She looked to me next. "Please, give me the doll." I went to move, but Basil lifted a hand to my chest to stop me. "I mean it, I'm going to shoot you-"

"Then, go ahead and shoot!" Basil now said with a shout. "You've had more than enough time and certainly more than enough chances to end my life! Shoot me now!" The tears poured down her face as she stared wide-eyed at him. By now her whole body trembled along with the gun still pointed at him. Miss Welsh slowly shook her head no and, in a swift move, turned the gun onto her own temple, pulling the trigger.

"NO!" I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the big bang, but nothing happened. Reopening them, I found Basil had quickly moved forward to take the gun from her. Miss Welsh buried her face into her shaking hands, heaving uncontrollable sobs. Basil knew all along it would not fire. There were no bullets loaded. He later explained it was a Belgian "bulldog" revolver facing him, and he could see there were no bullet heads exposed at the front through the cylinder chambers. For reasons unexplained, that devil woman gave her an unloaded weapon without telling her, and the trained eye would have known if it was loaded or not. Miss Welsh, being inexperienced with weapons, had no idea. Nor did I when I did not focus my eyes on the chamber. Basil placed the gun into his coat pocket and put a consoling arm around her. Miss Welsh continued to weep into her hands, soon turning to hide her face into his chest.

"It's all right, it's all right." He gently replied in her ear. "Good thing your 'boss' forgot to do something before giving you that gun, hmm?"

"I'm sorry, sir." She whispered. "It was either you or me, and I didn't want it to be you. If I failed her, she would have killed me anyway."

"To which I officially say enough is enough." Basil removed his arm and placed both hands upon each of her shoulders. "She was serious about a reward? She was going to give you fifty pounds to kill us and retrieve the doll?" Miss Welsh lamely nodded with a sniff. Basil turned to reach into his pocket and pull out his wallet. "I want you to take this, go to the train station, and return to London."

"What?" She asked softly.

"The game is over for you." Basil said quietly. "Thank you for playing with us."

"I- I can't accept this." Miss Welsh gawked at the bank notes Basil handed her. "It wouldn't be right."

"What would be right? Having you walk all the way back to London?" He had a point, I thought to myself. Miss Welsh shook her head as Basil continued. "Look my dear, you were deceived by a very evil woman. She brought you all the way out here to hunt down and dispose of two adults on your own so that they don't get in the way of her immoral schemes. I am giving you this money to get yourself safely home where you belong. You don't need the doll, and you certainly don't need to kill us. As far I'm concerned, your assignment with Ms Mosenthal has ended."

"I- I don't know what to say." Miss Welsh looked up when she felt him place his hand upon one of her shoulders once more, giving it a quick squeeze.

"You have said quite enough. Go home and let us finish this game of hers instead."

Basil and I walked away from Miss Welsh when she seemed to head in the direction of the nearest carriage to take her to the train station. That is, I had hoped she was not running off to squeal to another spy that we were still walking this earth and carrying the voodoo doll. I never got the chance to ask how many pounds Basil gave her, but it appeared to be more than the price of a train ticket. Basil later stated that she would need the extra money to buy a new pair of glasses. At some point during her journey, she fell and broke her glasses. He could see very small shards of the lens on her coat and knew what they were from. If she had had a spare, she would have been wearing them.

My instructions continued to keep Miss Flaversham's satchel safe against anyone or anything we came in contact with. Along the way, Basil provided more information on how the young Scottish girl ended up at the inn and posing as a maid. I was still shocked upon hearing the news of the doll, but I was not able to respond in so many words when forced to only listen and not speak. Basil could hear low wheezing from my poor self and paused to allow me to rest. As we walked along Market Street, we began our search for a Bailey's general store. Within the next ten minutes of walking, I found that I needed a few moments to catch my breath. I collapsed against the wall of several stores. Basil could not sit, nor could he stop pacing as he continued to explain all that happened early this morning with Miss Flaversham.

"So, you see," Basil said in his fifth turn of a pace, "our old friends have become victims of foul play once more, and I am determined to find that child, lift the curse off this wretched doll, and put that fiend of a woman behind bars! However...she cannot be detained so easily. Her hands are still clean while her young slaves do all of her dirty work. She must be caught in the act before anyone can arrest her."

"Poor Flaversham." I sighed and thought of the child's dear father. "I do hope he will be all right."

"As soon as we settle this case, he should be right as rain again." Basil gritted his teeth and stared outward to the open street. A raindrop fell upon a cobblestone brick, followed by a second and a third. "And speaking of rain...drat! I knew we should not have stopped."

"Forgive me, Basil, I am not as agile as you are...or as thin for that matter-"

"Dawson-"

"Honestly, I cannot keep up with your-"

"Dawson! Cease you babbling and look!" Basil pointed to a general store two doors down. It was the last shop on the corner with a 'closed' sign inside the window. "There it is, down there, Bailey's former general store. I can see the sign for Flaversham's shop just below it."

Basil made a swift run to reach the entrance of the toyshop. Still wheezing, I chose to walk behind my in-shape friend, knowing I would reach him soon enough. While pausing at the door, I turned my eyes upward to the sign above the door frame. It read 'Flaversham's Toys' and it looked utterly dreadful. It was a small slab of wood with the words poorly painted upon it. Is this what became of the genius of a toy maker? I had to remind myself the reconstruction of his dream was temporarily placed on hold due to lack of funds and his sudden hospitalization.

"Oh, Basil, if the outside looks this bad, I would hate to think what the inside looks like."

"We'll find out soon enough." Basil lowered the door's latch and entered the toyshop with myself in tow. The main room was dark and empty with many shelves in a desperate need of new toys to fill their space. Only a few items rested upon the top counter while others were tossed here and there in various boxes upon the floor. A distinct odor reached my nose of fresh paint. I could see it had been newly applied to the windowsills and side of the front door. A red paint can rest against the window where Flaversham had started to work on the sill with a job halfway completed. Basil formed a bit of a sympathetic gaze to our surroundings, knowing his former client wanted to do the best he could at restoring his business. It, too, made me feel a little sad that his work was put on hold due to a sudden illness no one could explain why.

"Oh, my." I muttered softly to the sight of the room. "Has he no friends? No money to afford assistance?"

"As you may recall Miss Flaversham took a sewing job to earn a little income." Basil replied while darting his eyes all around the room. "There was no one else to aid Mr. Flaversham in the few weeks they moved in here. That is why he asked for an assistant to help in rebuilding his shop. An assistant by the name of Makalia Mosenthal."

"You've known all along Flaversham contacted Ms Mosenthal to help him, did you not?"

"Not all along, Dawson." Basil shook his head. "It was painfully easy to deduce when both he and his daughter said in their letters a foreign toy maker was contacted to help assist in the shop. Not to mention Ms Mosenthal herself stated she was traveling up north after being contacted by an exceptional toy maker."

"Of course, Basil." I smiled next, but a frown was not too far off. "Though, I wish he could have known what Ms Mosenthal is really like."

"I rather he didn't, Dawson." Basil spied a baby mouse doll Flaversham had been working on and lifted it off the counter. "Her plan to have someone break into my flat to steal my coat and Ratigan's doll was news that fortunately never reached Flaversham's doorstep. He and his daughter do not need to know of her dark side. They have enough going on in their lives as it is." Basil briefly checked his pocket watch with a sigh. "Right now it's ten after six." Clipping it shut, he looked my way. "As it stands now, we could either leave a note as Miss Flaversham suggested or...talk to the toy maker herself."

"More of a confrontation."

"It is inevitable at this point."

"Well, we were told she's been taken to Southport, but we still don't know where exactly. Maybe we can find out somehow."

"Bribery is one way." Basil suggested lightly, his eyes moving over to Miss Flaversham's satchel. "We could give her the voodoo doll in exchange for information on where-"

"Certainly not!" I shouted, seeing Basil's eyes widen before slanting to anger. Yes, I disagreed immediately. "We've got the doll in our hands again, we can finally destroy it once and for all. If you give it to her, your life is still cursed-"

"My life is not as important as finding that child!" Basil snapped, waving the doll freely in his hand. "Moreover, she wanted the doll in the first place, let her have the wretched thing in exchange for telling us where she is!"

"Basil, something tells me that she will never confess to where the child is, no matter-"

"It's a fine attempt at trying, is it not? You may have slipped on the train and let the girl run away, but I am just as guilty for losing her."

My brows lowered. "What are you talking about? It made no sense why Ms Mosenthal kidnapped the child other than perhaps to blackmail us. She had nothing to do with her."

Basil raised a finger. "On the contrary, she has a lot to do with her. While we stood on the platform at the Waterloo Station, the child reacted to her appearance in a way that meant trouble. When I questioned if she knew Ms Mosenthal, she nodded her head. With that in mind, I attempted to keep us away from her as far as possible."

I frowned. "So, then, you did what you could. How is it you are just as at fault?"

"Apparently, that wasn't enough protection." Basil looked outward with a groan. "Despite the distance we kept from her on the train, that charming young spy, Miss Welsh, caught sight of us."

"So, it would not have mattered if we had disguises when Miss Welsh played her role well."

"Right Dawson." Basil groaned. "And that still would have left our minor companion…unless we stuffed her into a large piece of luggage-"

"Basil!"

"What? She would have fit! She's small enough to squeeze into a-"

"I can't believe you would even consider…" I sighed, pausing to realize he actually would consider it. "Basil, seriously now. We had no idea Ms Mosenthal would be on that same evening train until we saw her on the platform. Even if Miss Welsh didn't see us, there simply was no time for a disguise or, as you said, stuffing the poor girl into a large piece of luggage." The vision of that made me shudder, especially when Basil would have been highly agreeable to it. "You can't punish yourself over what you were not aware of." He merely shrugged and tossed the doll back onto the counter. "It is I who should be punished for losing the child, I was the one who fell asleep when I was supposed to be on watch."

"Yes, that's true, Dawson. Thank you for the reminder." I gulped and looked away from his sarcastic gaze. "Oh, who am I fooling? We both were at fault. I should have taken stronger precautions of that woman riding on the same train as us. Stronger than to assume moving to the back of the train would solve our safety from her. As it was, our own trail became followed upon entering the Old Wellington Inn."

"You knew all along Miss Welsh was a spy, didn't you?" Basil knew, and he only gave me a roll to the eyes as if to show that I too should have known. I pouted and lowered my eyes at him. "Well, goodness, man, if you knew she was a spy, why didn't you tell me-"

"Dawson, I couldn't very easily tell you with the girl standing there." He replied bitterly. "I did, however, try to show you my protest through silent expressions." I huffed and shook my head; now wishing I had taken those stares of his more seriously. "But, what would it have mattered? It would not have looked real gentlemanly of us to refuse her. The best we could do was keep quiet so that she could not gather more information from us."

"So, that's why you chose aliases for our names at the inn, to throw her and whatever army she brought back with her off the scent."

Basil nodded slightly. "It bought us some time, though, she still knew what we looked like and once she found our rooms, eavesdropped on my conversation with Miss Flaversham."

"No where seems safe for us anymore, does it Basil?" I went to speak further, but something made me pause in my words, the way Basil suddenly perked his ears up. His whole body stiffened as if listening to sounds I could not hear or care to notice. His fingers then curled into fists and his mouth began to grind at his teeth. I was not sure what was happening, only that he was turning into a statue with a light tendency to shake. "Basil-"

"Sh-sh!" He shot up a single finger towards me. Swallowing a little, his eyes fixed upon the side door and his feet began to slowly move towards it. Something told me to back away into what felt like a safe, dark corner next to a window. Eyes widening to me next, he only had the chance to utter, "Dawson, get away from that window-"

I cringed to the sound of breaking glass as something came crashing through the window. Opening my eyes, I saw it was a flame-engulfed object in the shape of a rather large rag doll. I did not get to see much of it afterward, for a pair of hands seized my shoulders and pulled me away. Basil was shaking fiercely by now, but kept a strong hold to push me towards the side door. Without another word, he flung it open and threw me out first. The moment I stepped outside, I went to question him, but he was shoving me into the dark alley.

It was a minor explosion from the size of the object, but one that would have caused both of us great injury. The doll was a homemade bomb and went off the few moments after it fell onto the floor. A small ball of a flame came bursting out, shattering the rest of the broken window. A shower of glass shards fell upon our trembling forms. I could not speak nor move too well from the fear and shock my body was going through. Basil continued to drag me away from the explosion with he himself shaking from head to toe.

"Dawson...are you...all right?" I could not answer him just yet. My form shook all over and my feet were unable to support myself. Basil turned and tapped at my cheek. I did not catch his face due to my eyes remaining shut. "Dawson!"

"Uh!" I managed to blurt out with a few coughs. "Oh, my word...what-what happened-"

Basil heaved me up to a standing position while I could not seem to keep from falling back down. I had no power to stand on my own. My knees were weak with fright and my heart pounded heavily against my chest. I was surprised I did not experience a heart attack at that point.

Suddenly, three mice darted out from the shadows of the alley and immediately began a surprise attack. In the corner of my eye, I caught a set of claws coming at my face. Basil easily took one down after he tried to kick him in the stomach. I dimly saw him grab for the assailant's foot, twist it at the ankle, and shove him backwards. The other two continued to claw at the satchel and pull it towards them. I shouted and pushed one off while the second mouse scratched my face. Basil was at my side within seconds to punch the one who pulled at the strap of the satchel. The punch sent him down, leaving one behind. I turned in his direction and blinked to a face cloaked in a black mask. His eyes stared me down with much hatred as I felt a horrible blow to my stomach. The pain was unbearable in my lower abdomen and I fell to the ground. The mouse jumped upon me to continue to slash at my face and grab for the satchel.

"Basil, help-!"

"Get off of him!" Basil pulled the mouse up like a simple rag doll and slammed him into the brick wall. A shriek escaped his lips and he slid down in a lifeless heap. The sound was too high-pitched for a male. We turned to look down at the forms surrounding us and I suddenly felt a pang of shock.

"Oh, my...oh, my goodness, Basil! They-they are-children!"

"I realize that now." My friend mumbled as he looked down with an equal stare of concern. Basil lowered himself to the one he threw against the wall and carefully examined his face. Blood dripped down from his nose and mouth, soaking into the black mask. I looked to the other two and found them all right but unconscious.

"These two are only unconscious, this one has a broken foot. How is the third one?"

"Appears all right aside from a broken nose, but she is also unconscious."

"She?"

"Yes, Dawson. It's a female, they all are. It's..." Basil pulled the mask off and gasped. "Oh... I cannot believe this..."

"What is it Basil?"

"Not what, who." He pulled her up to a sitting position and her head limped upon his shoulder.

"Is that...Ms Mosenthal's daughter?"

"This has gone far enough, Dawson. That woman is doing all of these acts without once doing any of them herself. Now, she has her own daughter attacking us for that doll...I have never been so disgusted..." Basil carefully lowered her back down and rose to a standing position. He took a moment to gaze around the three forms and over to the flames protruding from Flaversham's toyshop. I also took a moment to adjust the strap of the satchel as well as place a hand to my cheek. Light stains of blood came back from the scratch marks.

"What are we going to do now, Basil?"

"We have to get these children to hospital. Perhaps by doing that it should bring Her Lowness out into the open. Her plan failed. The explosion was meant for us and we escaped it. Those three hoodlums were after us and we took them down."

"Well, more like you took them down, Basil -"

"Whatever." Basil waved a hand. "My point is we were meant to perish and here we stand still alive." A soft click echoed from the dark alley. Basil and I turned toward the sound and saw a tall form emerging from the shadows with a gun pointed right at the temple of a familiar female she held tightly in her grasp. "No…"

"We meet again, detective." Basil gawked at Ms Mosenthal with her arm around Miss Welsh's neck and the gun at the side of her head. "Caught this little trouble-maker trying to escape by the train station, but I must thank her for being so cooperative in telling me everything. All I want is the doll, Mr. Basil, and her life is spared." She then turned her gaze over to my direction. "Give me the satchel, fatso, or say goodbye to your nosy little informer."

"Do as she says, Dawson." Basil said without moving an inch.

I stood frozen with my arms raised. I did not want to give over the satchel; I had to keep my promise of protecting it. Yet, here I stood witnessing a gun pointed at Miss Welsh, ready to take her life if I did not do as she said. I quickly prayed that a passing Bobby would come intervene or an alley cat to jump out and eat her whole. I longed for some sort of distraction to occur so that she would be caught off-guard and Basil could get the upper hand.

"Please, madam, why are you doing this -"

"Silence! Give me the satchel now!" The woman glared with her index resting on the trigger while her other hand gestured for me to hand over what I refused to give up. I continued to wish for a diversion as I slowly started to remove the strap from across my chest. "Faster, you imbecile!"

"Dawson, do it now!" Basil shouted with gritted teeth. His eyes darted between the gun and the satchel. "Dawson -"

"Basil, no!" A young female's voice echoed from the entrance of the alley. I looked all around to see the three forms still lying unconscious until my eyes met with this new mouse. Her face was hard to identify with a hood covering her head. Ms Mosenthal turned her gun and shot once at the new mouse as Basil quickly turned to throw her down to the ground. Miss Welsh rolled to the side and the two struggled with one another as I ran to see if the mouse was all right. As soon as I reached the side of the wounded girl and lifted the hood...oh...I curse the day I did not do as I was told to do.

"O- Olivia? Oh, good heavens, no!"

The sound of the gunshot brought forth two patrolling bobbies whom finally came to inspect the commotion. Basil wrestled the gun out of Ms Mosenthal's hand and had both her arms gripped securely behind her back. One bobby approached my side as his friend went to assist Basil.

"Please, officer! This girl has been shot and the others over there are wounded! We must get them all to hospital quickly!" The bobby nodded to my words and went to find more help from the nearby street. The second bobby cuffed Ms Mosenthal as Basil rose to reach my side with Miss Welsh in tow. He did not look pleased in the least.

"Basil, forgive me, I -"

"Confound it, Dawson! Why did you not -" Gasping, he looked down and literally collapsed to his knees. The next few moments were a blur of slow motion and faded visions. Either my eyes were losing sight or they were misting from the start of tears. More bobbies entered to help gather the three children while the other two escorted Ms Mosenthal. I felt her dagger eyes glaring as she passed by us.

"Serves her right for interfering in affairs that don't concern her."

"You will pay for this." Basil snapped in return. As a bobby went to lift Miss Flaversham up, he raised a hand to stop him. "Please, allow me." Basil stooped down and carefully lifted her into his arms. I could see immense pain on his face as if he were losing a beloved family member. I also rose to my feet and followed behind as quickly as I could. Miss Welsh took up the rear sobbing quietly. I soon reached Basil's side and looked to him mournfully.

"Basil, I'm sorry, I -"

"If you are wise, you will not speak to me."

I closed my mouth and hung my head. I can easily say this was the biggest mistake I had ever made of this entire case, and the worst was yet to come for the both of us.

**********  
A/N: End of chapter seven. This was a complete monster with several rewrites and alternate versions. The original draft was also too short to enjoy: it just had Basil and Dawson arrive at Flaversham's shop in no time, talk a little and then the encounter occurs. In wanting to draw the readers better into the story, I looked at street maps of Manchester to do a direct route to where the two needed to go and added it in. Apologies if any of those streets didn't exist back then. If I had a 19th century map, I would have used it. I also wanted more than one conflict before the end by returning a character, Miss Welsh, and making her more of a threat. It was actually fun writing her interactions with Basil and Dawson. I liked writing for her; I may very well reuse her in another story. The whole gun part came about when I had to tie up her scene and didn't know how to end it suspenseful enough. I studied 19th century weapons and read about the Belgian "bulldog" revolver, using that as my guide. It is true when the gun is in front view, if it is not loaded, you won't see any bullet heads in the chamber. Basil caught this and knew he was safe.


	8. Chapter 8: Visiting Hours

Chapter 8: Visiting Hours

A harsh slam of the iron bars was a sure sign she was going to be locked up tight for quite a while. Ms Mosenthal turned on her heel to stare through the bars and watch the officer return to his post. With arms crossed, she turned her gaze down to view the floor and her worn stockings. What a sight she must have looked after trying so hard to get that voodoo doll from the nosy detective and his associate, a bumbling buffoon of a doctor. Was he even a certified surgeon? He seemed to be such an imbecile; Basil could have chosen someone a lot smarter to work for him. Unless he was more intelligent than she realized, he surely was not showing it before her.

She then thought of her dear friend, the one she went to visit in Southport hours ago and brought the African child to. It surprised her she did not make much of a struggle, especially after finding out who she was going to see. All that running around in different towns must have made the little girl exhausted, and Ms Mosenthal could not blame her when she too felt the tiredness reach her own self. She finally huffed and plopped down on the cold, single bench in her cell to take the load off her sore feet. As for her daughter and servants, she was not concerned about their current conditions. Her mind continued to remain on one thing alone: getting that doll from Basil. More specifically, rather, getting the doll from that obese doctor friend of his. Basil's torn Inverness coat, however, would prove to be a worthy tool for her friend in her voodoo-making skills. And speaking of her friend...

"Excuse me, miss? You have a visitor." The officer's voice echoed within the silent room. Ms Mosenthal lifted her head and rose to her feet. She had not been in the cell for more than an hour when a woman unexpectedly approached the steel bars and stared her down with crossed arms. "Five minutes, miss."

"Thank you, sir." The woman answered, turning back to Ms Mosenthal behind the bars. "Well, well, well, it looks as though you didn't succeed as I had hoped you would."

"I was distracted." Ms Mosenthal snapped. "That damn brat interrupted and I shot at her without thinking."

"So you did, and you have terrible aim." Her friend snickered. "No doubt my own little bugger of a prisoner was behind that distraction. Seems as if she tried to save him and your spy somehow. She is getting quite good with her gift, so good that I cannot wait much longer. I want to do the deed before midnight tonight and I want the detective to get a front row seat to enjoy the show."

"You are not worried he will try and stop you-"

"Oh, he will try and stop me all right." Her friend nodded. "I am up for a good one on one battle with him and his so-called doctor."

"What about that doll? Do you not still need it since it's the original?" Ms Mosenthal watched her friend look away and chew at her lip in some thought.

"It would have helped me to look it over for the specific parts needed to make more of them. Not to mention the most important piece is inside that particular doll..." Her friend looked back up to her. "However, I can get started on what you have provided for me already. His torn coat will do just nicely for now. You didn't fail at getting that, correct?"

"No, dear. That I still have back at the inn," Ms Mosenthal said. "There is one problem: the officer took all of my belongings, including the key to my room."

"Honestly, Kenyatta, you know very well that locked doors have never stopped me before." The woman smiled. "I will arrange to have it picked up. As for the detective, he seems a bit lost on where to find the child. I can see to it that he gets some very helpful assistance." She reached through the bars to lift up Ms. Mosenthal's chin. "You've done rather exceptional up until this point. Exhaustion has clouded your mind, body and above all...your spirit. Allow me to take it from here. Besides, this is personal."

Ms Mosenthal smiled next. "When will you be able to get me out of here?"

"All in good time, my friend." The woman nodded as she bowed to turn away and walk out of the room. "All in good time."

oooooooooo

The distance to hospital was not too far away, but every second counted to get the wounded children there as quickly as possible. With the help of a passing hansom, we were able to reach our destination in minutes. As we rode the cab in silence, I wanted to examine the severity of Miss Flaversham's wound. My small voice began to ask of such a request, only to receive a pair of dagger eyes in response. Apparently, the detective was still greatly upset for my lack of acting on his command. Upon seeing this, I chose to remain seated and tap a consoling hand upon Miss Welsh's arm. Basil did, however, a brief examination of his own by turning her as carefully as he could to view the area where the bullet supposedly entered her lower right-hand side. I could not believe my own eyes. Here she was barely eight years old and fighting for her life after an attack occurred right outside her father's toyshop. It was obvious she wanted to follow behind to be with the detective she has admired since day one. She knew where we were going; ergo, her appearance at the toyshop was no coincidence. Yet her obedience was terribly lacking when she was strictly told to stay behind. Her true answer of arriving at the shop was one I was eager to discover soon, hopefully hearing it from her own lips.

Several nurses rushed to the entrance to collect the injured and take them to the examination rooms. I turned to collapse into the nearest chair while Basil stood with two bobbies to discuss the incident at the toyshop. I did not want to notice that the front of his Inverness coat was spotted with bloodstains. It was a fairly new coat recently tailored when his original brown tweed was ripped to pieces after battling with Professor Ratigan. He had only worn this new coat on a few investigations, including this one. Mrs. Judson offered to repair his old coat, but he refused, saying he wanted to remember it as the coat he wore when triumphing over his adversary. The memories will forever haunt him just by looking at his own body, covered with scars from wounds to his back and chest that I had painstakingly sewn up.

Once Basil finished talking and the bobbies returned to the streets, he turned to face his little spy. Miss Welsh's beautiful white fur turned crimson around the cheeks and she bowed her head before the detective. Since we arrived at hospital, she had eventually calmed down from heavy sobs to minor sniffles. It was not her fault; she tried to escape to the station and was caught by another one of Ms Mosenthal's young spies, her own daughter no less. Regardless, the guilt was fully present for having to confess of the doll's whereabouts. After the fourth apology unnecessarily received, Basil finally placed both hands upon her shoulders in a gentle manner.

"Now, I will not hear any more of that. You have done nothing wrong. You were only doing what you were told to do." Basil briefly cupped a hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb across a wide scar, frowning a bit to its appearance. She also had bruises on her forehead, ones I felt that should have been examined, but she constantly told us not to fuss over her. The gentleman that Basil was had to ask once more, mainly out of concern. "Are you sure you do not need any medical attention?"

"I was given bandages to apply to my cuts, and I'll do so later. I don't need anyone fretting over me, but… thank you…sir." She sniffed. "I just want to go home."

"All right. A bobby is waiting outside for you. I asked for him to accompany you to the train station and see that you board with no disruptions this time," Basil went on casually before pausing to look down at her. "I never thought to ask this, but do your parents even know where you are?"

"No, sir. I'm usually gone for long periods of time and they never say anything about it. They probably think I'm visiting some friends or spying on the neighbors." She shrugged, glancing up to his concerned face. "They hardly notice me when I'm at home." Basil shook his head and clicked his tongue in disappointment. Looking down to his foot, her face scrunched up sympathetically. "By the way, um, sorry about your foot...and your stomach...and your shoulder...AND branding you as a fake detective-"

Basil had to chuckle to all of that and waved a dismissive hand. "No worries, my dear. Believe me when I say that I have suffered far worse than those minor inflictions." He briefly looked to the side and cleared his throat. "You had better head for home now, whether or not you have family members worried about you there. The time has come for you to return to London."

"What about the little girl?" Miss Welsh asked quietly. "Only Ms Mosenthal knows where she took her and now she's been taken away herself."

"Dawson and I are not giving up searching for her," Basil simply stated. "We will do what we can to find her. Ms Mosenthal won't be troubling us any further, nor can she place any more falsehoods into your head. If all goes well for us and we return to London safely, I will send word to you that we were successful." Miss Welsh nodded in agreement with a sad smile. "Goodbye, Miss Welsh." Basil lifted his right hand towards her.

"Goodbye, Mr. Basil." Miss Welsh looked down and accepted his hand along with unexpectedly moving forward to embrace him. I blinked and watched this scene quietly, wondering if Basil would react by pushing her away. Instead, he remained still and also blinked in surprise. "Sorry, sir. I know this is informal and rude of me, but after realizing you really are the great detective, I am very relieved I didn't shoot you!" He laughed softly and returned the gesture with a light pat to her back.

"And I am very relieved that the revolver was not loaded." Miss Welsh nodded and hugged him tighter. Basil turned to reply in her ear, "Please, take care, and be sure to stay out of trouble." Miss Welsh suddenly began to laugh into his shoulder, making Basil pull her away with a raised eyebrow. "Did I just say something amusing?"

"Be sure to stay out of trouble." Still giggling, she responded, "You said that to me before. Remember? At the Old Wellington Inn."

"Ah. Indeed, I did, and I meant every word of it, too." He winked.

Once Miss Welsh said her farewell to me and walked out of the hospital, I was left alone to sit in the same room with the one mouse I knew was furious with me. I still could not look his way, nor would I dare speak a word as he turned to face my direction. I sighed heavily and hung my head low to the ground. The lecture arrived, and I had to take it bravely from start to finish.

"You are very troubled, my friend, I can plainly see that. But, I must say this, or never say it at all." He paused for a moment to move closer with one hand behind his back and the other to gesture freely. "I gave you an order not once, but twice to give Ms Mosenthal the satchel and you did not act upon it. Not only does that discourage me, it angers me. I am very displeased that you did not do as I asked you to do." I sighed again and did not answer. "However, it would not have made a difference if you had handed Ms Mosenthal the satchel. Miss Flaversham distracted her, and I, on the other hand, did not act quickly enough to stop her from pulling the trigger."

"I am sorry for not doing as I was told, but even sorrier that- that..." I shook my head and buried my face into my hands. "Oh, the poor girl...I do hope she will pull through." Soft footfalls caught my ears as I felt movement and his form sit beside me. A hand came to my shoulder and gripped it lightly.

"She will pull through, Dawson." My eyes lifted to a face that showed some relief. "I am not a doctor such as yourself, but I know a bullet wound when I see one. From my own examination, the bullet only grazed her side. It was the back of her head I was more concerned about. When she fell onto the ground, she hit her head rather hard, leaving her unconscious."

"Excuse me, gents?" A soft voice appeared at the door from the examination rooms. Basil and I turned to see a surgeon standing with his mask lowered around his neck. "You were the two that brought in the child with the gunshot wound, correct?" Nodding a little, we both rose and fully turned to face him. "It looks as though she will have many more birthdays to celebrate. Fortunately, her assailant had bad aim. The bullet only grazed her side, doing minimal damage. We repaired the skin with stitches and she should be turning cartwheels in a few weeks."

"What about her head?" Basil asked also in a soft voice. "The impact caused her to fall and hit the back of her upper cranium."

"Yes, we examined that area as well." The surgeon nodded. "The fall caused minor scratches to her head, but we could not detect any internal bleeding."

"Oh, thank goodness!" I sighed in relief. I glanced to Basil whom looked equally reassured. I felt like doing cartwheels myself from feeling a giant weight lifted from my shoulders. "May we see her?"

"Only family members can visit the patients. Although," the surgeon looked between us, "She asked for an Uncle Basil. Which one of you is it?"

Both of us remained silent and looked between one another when neither was such a real family member to the girl. Seconds merely passed when Basil took a step forward, feeling it was more appropriate for him to briefly claim that title than me. As it was, he needed to have a few words with her and inquire on why she suddenly showed up at the toyshop when she was instructed to stay behind at the shelter. I trusted he would be gentle yet firm when questioning her. She was in no real condition to handle harshness.

"I am, doctor." Basil said after stepping forward. "If you'll excuse me, Dawson."

"Certainly, Basil." I nodded calmly and returned to my seat. While I was overjoyed to hear she would be all right, I still could not get those horrid images out of my head. So much blood, violence, and destruction, I could not believe what my own eyes witnessed that dreadful afternoon. After I was given some ointment for my scars, I found myself wandering off into a small chapel within the hospital. I sat alone in the pew with hands clasped and eyes to the heavens above. I quietly mumbled a prayer I remembered in the days of attending church:

1._"O God,_

_Who knows us to be set in the midst _

_Of so many and great dangers_

_That by reason of the frailty of our nature_

_We cannot always stand upright:_

A soft voice to my right quietly joined in.

_Grant us such strength and protection,_

_As may support us in all dangers_

_And carry us through all temptations;_

_Through Jesus Christ our Lord._

_Amen."_

Once finished, a hand came down upon my shoulder and I turned to see Basil standing in the aisle. A faint, tired smile was on his lips.

"You know that prayer, too?"

"Quite well, old chap. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, Basil. Please..." I moved over and he sat down with gathered hands. "How is Olivia?"

"Sore, but favorably well." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Ms Mosenthal may be out of the picture, but the war is not over yet. We still do not know where she stashed Natalie, but if we-"

"Sorry, uh, where she stashed who?"

"Natalie." Basil frowned at me. "The child who was with us on the train."

"Her name is Natalie?"

"Of course, did I not tell you her name?"

I smirked. "Not until now. I was under the assumption it was a secret I was not meant to know."

Basil blinked. "Oh...no, no, you are permitted to know her name- ahem, anyway, we still do not know where she can be, but if we play our cards right, maybe we can get a clue or two from a certain young girl whom, as we speak, is healing in a hospital bed from a...broken nose."

My eyes widened and I stared at Basil. "Y-you mean Ms Mosenthal's daughter?" He nodded slowly. "But, how? Remember what that surgeon said, only family members can see the patients-"

"Yes, I clearly remember what he said, and yet, the caring uncle that I am was given access to visit my poor, injured niece." An increasing smile, he added, "Just ask for her and when they ask if you are a family member, tell them you are her Uncle David."

"Oh, Basil, I do not know if I could go through with this-"

"Dawson you must!" Basil hissed. "Natalie could be in serious danger! We are unable to help her unless we get some information as to her whereabouts."

I should have known this new life I joined with the detective required a bit of stretching the truth. No, I knew this was a boldface lie I was about to do, and I did not like the thought in the very least. Basil was more of an uncle to Miss Flaversham than I was to young Makalia Mosenthal. Goodness, the girl was not even of our nationality. There was no time for a quick disguise to look Pygmy, nor was there time to rehearse any background knowledge of this child. No, I simply had to pass through the single nurse to make my way to her room, and from that point hope that she will cooperate with me. Then another idea came to mind, one that I took over the original plan.

The young girl was found sleeping in her room when I entered. Her nose was bandaged with various bruises around her face. I closed the door behind me and entered the room as quietly as I could. The sound of the door closing awoke her. She looked my way and shifted in her bed.

"Mmm, Doctor?"

The disguise fooled her. I stood wearing formal attire with a white coat and stethoscope around my neck. With her medical chart in hand, I truly looked the part. She had made my acquaintance before the assault outside Flaversham's toyshop, yet here she stared as if she had never seen me before.

"Good evening, young lady. Your original physician has gone off-duty and I will be checking your status from now on. Are you feeling all right?"

"My head hurts," she mumbled, slurring the words together. Her broken nose made her speech a little difficult to understand. I never thought I would stare at a wounded child and secretly know who caused the damage.

"How did this happen to you, my dear?"

"I was in a fight with some mice in…some place." She muttered. "I was trying to take back something that was stolen from my...uh...my mother."

My eyebrows went upward. "Stolen from your mother?"

"Yes, but I failed, and did not get it back."

"What was stolen from your mother? Her purse?"

Makalia shook her head to my questions. "Can't remember exactly."

"How old are you my dear?"

"I am...oh...not sure..."

I squinted and tried one that she was bound to answer correctly.

"What is your name?"

"I...I don't know...do you?"

"Good heavens..." I gasped and almost dropped her medical chart. She was no help to us after all. Aside from her broken nose, her head did make contact with the wall, and now she was suffering from severe memory loss. Even still, I attempted one last try with a name to see what it would do. "My dear, do you know someone named Natalie?"

Makalia blinked and looked up at me. "Natalie?"

"That is correct."

"She...she sounds familiar...is she my nurse?"

I shook my head and took a wild guess on the names of the medical staff. "Uh, no, I am afraid we have no one of that name here." I casually looked down to the chart while trying to think of what to say next. Basil would not be pleased that I failed him yet again, but there was nothing I could do to get the proper answers on Natalie.

"Oh. Is my name Natalie?"

"No, ah...I think I had better let you rest for now."

I deliberately lagged in my walk back to meet up with Basil. I did not want to face him without any leads to poor Natalie, nor did I want to tell him that Makalia's condition was worse than just a broken nose. It would pain him to know he did damage to her brain. It was a defense move; she was attacking me, yet all the same, I felt a deep sympathy for the girl.

"Pssst!" I paused and turned around. The same sound of hissing came to me again and I walked back to look into the room. It was Miss Flaversham eagerly looking to me from the doorway of her room. In a whisper, she hissed, "Dr. Dawson!"

"Oh...Olivia!" I moved forward to her bedside and clasped a hand she held out to me. Her eyes were worn with sleep and tears, but she still kept a happy and healthy gaze. Tears reached my own eyes when I saw how well she looked. I would have embraced her if I could, but I did not wish to harm her delicate state. Instead, I squeezed her hand with my own and smiled warmly.

"Dr. Dawson...I'm so happy to see you."

"And I you. You look so well. I did not wish to wake you, but I wanted to speak with you-"

"So do I. I already told Mr. Basil, now I'll tell you." She took her other hand and placed it on top of mine. "Something strange happened, something I can't figure out. Basil said that I got shot at in the alley of Daddy's shop, but, I- I don't remember any of it."

"Of course you would not remember. You were knocked unconscious." I said, tapping her hand.

"No, no, I mean I would have remembered everything before that." Her eyes lowered in confusion. "I would have remembered walking over to the shop. But, I remember nothing of the sort, nothing since you and Basil left me at the shelter."

"Oh, my word." I had already felt I entered some supernatural fairy tale at the start of this voodoo nonsense, but now, it seemed as if it were getting more frightening as well as bizarre. "My dear, if I was not baffled before, I certainly am now. This makes no sense at all. How could you not remember coming over to the shop? You even called out to Basil, do you not remember that either?"

"I didn't call out to Basil-"

"Yes, you did! You did, you...you called out his name and then Ms Mosenthal shot at you...and..." The girl was shaking her head 'no' the entire time and I grew weary with my own confusion. "Child, it was you, please, it had to be, that is, who else could it have been standing there?"

"I don't know, Dr. Dawson." Her lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. "I only remember waking up in this room. I was asked many questions and I could only ask for the name of who I last saw."

"Uncle Basil." I calmly stated.

"Someone spoke to me in the shelter. There was someone in the room with me, but I was too tired to wake up. She talked in my ear, saying you and Basil were in trouble. I thought I was dreaming and never realized I got up. I don't remember walking to Daddy's shop at all."

"Did this girl tell you her name?" Miss Flaversham shook her head slowly. "Did you see her at all?"

"I saw no one." I watched in silence as she dropped her head upon my hand. "I'm so confused, Dr. Dawson."

"That makes two of us, darling." I sighed and patted her cheek.

"Doctor?" A voice whispered at the door. I turned to see Basil enter the room and walk towards the bed. His expression quickly turned to disappointment when he caught the girl sitting upright and wide-awake. "Young lady..." he said in a chiding tone with hands to his hips. "There is no way you are getting out of here if you do not get your proper rest."

"But I saw Dr. Dawson, I had to say hello to him-"

"So you have. And now you must go back to sleep. You must not defy doctor's orders...nor my own for that matter." Basil paused to stare at the pitiful form before him. I stood silently and felt my own guilt for keeping her awake. I had known better never to interrupt when he was at a cross between irritation and exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, Basil." Miss Flaversham lowered her head in shame.

"Sorry? I believe you have used that word far too much with me." Sighing briefly, he shrugged with a turned expression of concern. "My dear, please, I only want what it is best for you. It is highly unfair you and your father were pulled into this disaster of a case, but now that you are involved, I want to do what I can to protect you from further harm. You are safe here, but your body is in need of rest. It is extremely vital if you wish to expect a full recovery."

"Basil is right," I cut in with another squeeze to her hand. "It was very good to see you and have a little talk, but now you should rest. You need to restore your strength if the doctor expects you to turn cartwheels." As my eyes wandered the room, they rested upon the door where I thought I caught a woman looking in at us, only to dart back out from view.

"I know how to do a cartwheel." She looked back to Basil with a grin. "I once did three in a row for Daddy."

"Oh, did you now?" Basil smirked with a tone meant to sound impressed.

"Yes, the first weekend after we arrived in town, Daddy took me to this wonderful place called Ardwick Green Park. I played with other children and I showed them and Daddy my cartwheels."

"How nice." Basil nodded with the start of moving away from the bed. "Let's go, Dawson-"

"And then they showed me this one hollow tree with a secret hole in it that has a ladder up to a tree house. I got to play in it for hours, that is, until Daddy said we had to go home, and…" Miss Flaversham paused and looked up at the detective's soft yet stern gaze. "Oh, um, anyway, it was a lot of fun."

"Indeed." Basil crossed his arms with one hand out to point down at her. "All right, that is quite enough chatter. Now, will you please do as you were told over an hour ago?" Once more I noticed the same woman standing in our doorway, only to vanish when I glanced up at her. Whenever I would look at the door, she would suddenly move away as if in fear of being seen by me. I grew more curious by the minute.

"I will. Goodnight, Dr. Dawson." I looked back to Miss Flaversham as she removed her hands from mine and settled into her bed.

"Hm? Oh! Goodnight, my dear. Sleep tight." Without thinking, I leaned over and kissed the child on the forehead. I did not know what had come over me. I paused for a moment to realize what I had just done. I was so concerned for the girl and often treated her as if she were one of my own. It was as if I was an uncle to her as well.

"Goodnight to you, too...Uncle Basil..." It was in a whisper, but I knew he heard the words clearly. I blinked and looked in his direction. Basil only lifted his nose in the air with his eyes rolling to the ceiling.

"Uh...right. Yeswellgoodnightsleeptight." Basil rushed his words before lightly pecking her on the forehead and turning to step away toward the exit. His bedside manner could use work, but that was quite possibly the most affectionate I had ever seen him towards our little friend.

A young girl stood up from a hallway chair as we approached her side. I took a moment to take in extra detail of this beautiful form that stood before me. She wore a long black dress with a high lace neckline. The sleeves stopped at her elbows while the remainder of them ruffled out in more lace. A beautiful jeweled necklace sparkled against her chest with the shade of blue almost matching her wide, expressive eyes. Her fur was a few shades below Basil's, almost like a chestnut color, and her smile was so wonderfully pleasant, I felt as if I had known her for years.

"Good evening, Dr. Dawson. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." The woman extended a dainty hand to my own.

"Good evening, Ms-?" I took her hand and suddenly felt a rush of unusual coldness running through my arm.

"Laveaux. Madeline Laveaux. I am sure you have heard of me?" The girl smiled and briefly looked to Basil, whom stood by with his arms behind his back. My eyes widened, apparently giving her the answer she was expecting. "Yes, you have. Well, it would seem I arrived right on time, for we have much to do before the night is over."

oooooooooo

A/N: End of chapter eight. I must apologize for taking so long to submit this chapter. It was completed a long time ago, but when reading it over, it was in desperate need of repairs. The only explanation I could come up with Olivia arriving at the toyshop was through sleep walking or her body was possessed by an unknown force, making her completely unaware that she left the shelter. I considered Natalie as the one who came to Olivia to tell her to go to her friends and help them. Olivia thought she was dreaming of her friends in danger when in fact she was being used as a physical puppet to try and save them. When the gun went off, she felt the impact, but the force controlling her made sure the bullet missed entering her body. I had decided a long time ago that Natalie was not only gifted with making dolls, but she was a natural witch with the power to astral project herself into other bodies. Also to clear up speculation, it's supposed to be her who appears to Basil at Hamleys on the second floor just before Ms Mosenthal's tutorial, an early sign that she was meant to find and help him.

Credit goes to beta reader Megana for any spelling, grammar and sentence repairs. Thank you, Megana!

1. Protection is a famous Anglican Prayer recited by someone in times of danger or conflict. I don't see Dawson and Basil as strong religious types, but if they were to attend church, they would probably go to the Anglican (Church of England).


	9. Chapter 9: The Underground Fun House

Chapter 9: The Underground Fun House

The three of us came forth from the hospital entrance and into a treacherous downpour on the city streets. My pocket watch read half past eight. The descending darkness of night made the sky appear even more foreboding. I cannot really say what my current thoughts were as we dodged puddles and maneuvered around clumsy humans to our destination. My mind raced with numerous questions about this new companion at my side. How she knew to arrive in town was something only my friend knew, and it seemed to him to be a matter of little importance to make me pry to such information. I deduced on my own that she planned to arrive later to make herself less conspicuous. The answer to her surprise appearance at the hospital came much later in a way I had least expected.

Perhaps the question I longed to have an answer to was if she could help Basil rid the curse of the voodoo doll without that child, Natalie, present. The answer I received was not to my satisfaction in the least. True, Ms Laveaux was an expert in the removal of curses from satanic tools, and the one I carried in Miss Flaversham's satchel was no different from what she had handled in the past. Yet, she could not rid the curse herself and I demanded to know why. We returned to her shelter where many of the homeless were either eating supper or retired for the night. We moved to a small corner of the main room to talk amongst ourselves. Ms Laveaux explained what needed to be done, a basic ritual that sounded very familiar to the one which Ms Rosenberg had explained to me.

"I just want him free from the burden of the curse, madam," I said once she had finished.

"As do I, Dr. Dawson," Ms Laveaux nodded in agreement.

"Then what else is there? What more do you need to rid the curse?"

"Natalie," Basil and Ms Laveaux replied in unison.

"She created the doll, Dr. Dawson," Ms Laveaux continued. "She offered to lift its curse, therefore, she is the one who has to complete the deed. Also, something that Basil told me is further proof she must be the one to do it, the only one who can do it."

"And why is that?"

"Because...we...bonded..." Basil muttered, his eyes rolling over to some corner of the room.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

Basil finally looked my way and frowned tiresomely. "Remember my initial reaction to the doll? I treated the curse as silly nonsense and it kept me strong. My skeptical attitude prevented me from falling prey to its dark power. It was until I started taking the situation more seriously, the moment I laid eyes on the young girl who offered to help rid the curse, and...the moment I held her in my arms, something inside of me...it..."

"Weakened you?"

Basil looked down and shook his head. "Even the most brilliant of minds makes mistakes."

"It wasn't a mistake." Ms Laveaux placed a hand to his shoulder, making him flinch a little. "You are not just a detective who solves crimes. You are a mouse with a brave soul and a generous heart. The curse of the doll grew over time, and with its power turned to evil, it grew with more anger of your protection to the weak and innocent. Natalie is in your debt, Basil, you remember she owes-"

"Shhh…" Basil hissed and looked to me. "Yes, I remember."

My brows arched a little. "Basil, are you not telling me something-"

"I am quite possibly not telling you something that you already know...or at the very least deduced by now..." Basil rose and paced a little before turning to look back at me. After some contemplation, he reached into his coat pocket, retrieved the folded note I found on the floor of our train compartment and handed it to me. "Do you know what that means?"

I shook my head no.

Ms Laveaux glanced over my shoulder and read it out loud.

"Mimi katika deni yako. It means... I...in...your...debt."

"Your debt? So, you...you..." Basil took the note and placed it back in his pocket, not bothering to watch my jaw drop. "You were the private detective who found and rescued Natalie in Africa all those months ago!" He nodded a little and looked to Ms Laveaux. "Oh, my word. I knew it! That is, I should have known the connection since the moment she arrived… Oh, we must find her for certain, it is vital that we do!"

"Yes." Basil nodded again. "It is extremely vital that we do, and Ms Laveaux is going to help us in our search."

"Like your sneaky foreign toymaker, I have friends of my own in low places. Sources have told me the location of where she's been taken, but getting her out won't be so easy to accomplish." Ms Laveaux looked to me next. "Do you still have the doll?"

I nodded and gestured to Miss Flaversham's satchel.

"Good." She finally looked over at Basil. "This will be very dangerous, but I am confident you will fight to the end."

"Restoring the child is far more important than anything right now," Basil said with a nod.

I also nodded silently. I could not agree more.

Our goal, unfortunately, could not wait till morning. I was weary with hunger, but I was not permitted to have another meal before we left the shelter. Basil caught my disappointed gaze and snatched up the largest cheese crumpet he could locate as we passed a food table. I took the crumpet with a minimal 'thank you' and munched on it as we walked out into the cold, dark night.

Ms Laveaux led the way down the street and onto a stationary carriage. The ride carried us about two hours away from the city and into a rural, uncharted area where we hopped off in front of a large, dilapidated building. My insides began to ache something fierce, but not due to hunger. It was a sense of dread as if we were entering the gates of a world of evil and dark forces ready to ensnare our very lives.

Once inside the building, Ms Laveaux turned on her lantern to the highest setting as we began to descend downward. Drops of water fell upon my head and neck, giving me chills as we walked further into a black, empty pit of a cavern. It became so dark I could not see my own hand in front of me. My eyes kept on the lantern, the only source of light to guide our way. Clutching tightly to Miss Flaversham's satchel, my eyes darted left to right as if ready for something to jump out and attack us. Basil was extremely calm yet on the alert for anything to happen. He, too, carried a lantern borrowed from the shelter and placed it on the highest setting. I paused when he slipped on something and extended an arm to grab the wall for support. Looming the lantern down at his feet, I released a low gasp at the sight of a broken mouse skull. Basil briefly clicked his tongue with a frown.

"Poor fellow."

"You mean poor fellows, Basil. He wasn't alone. Look..." Ms Laveaux pointed her lantern to another section of several mouse skulls in a heap. I gulped and felt a wave of nausea come over me. Not only were there skulls but various other bones strewn upon the ground.

"We must be getting close," Basil sighed with his lantern now out at arm's length.

"Close to where?" I whispered. "What on earth is this place?"

Basil shushed me in reply.

We moved to a new room of the cavern even darker than the first. This one opened up to a higher ceiling with stalactites dripping more water down on us. Basil informed me we were near the water's edge; that was why there was water dripping from above. My heart suddenly began to thud when I heard the sound of whimpering. It was like a young child crying softly from somewhere. I looked to Ms Laveaux whom paused suddenly to the sound. Basil also took pause and backed up against the wall.

"Do you hear that?" I asked them both.

"Loud and clear, doctor. It means we are close," Ms Laveaux told me and turned to Basil whom nodded to her. "And you know what that means?"

"No, what does it mean?" I asked her.

"Traps..." Basil hissed. He looked left to right while remaining against the wall. Taking a thin fibula bone from the ground, he tossed it at the path ahead of us. Squinting, I watched two large blades swing down and slice through the air. My heart almost jumped up into my throat.

Ms Laveaux carefully moved forward with her lantern close to the ground, watching the path before her feet. I was paralyzed with fear, but Basil forced me to follow behind. I nearly fainted when I watched Ms Laveaux time her run and dodge through the swinging blades to the other side. Suddenly they stopped moving and she gestured for us to move forward.

"Clear!" She hissed to us.

"Did- did you see that?" I pointed wide-eyed and mouth agape.

"Yes, I did. She's very agile, hm? Come on, Dawson," Basil said, as if inviting me to tea.

"Come on? You actually want to keep going after that?"

"But, of course," he answered, still in his light-sounding voice. He was too calm for my liking.

"How could you possibly want to go on after we could have lost our heads from those blades?"

"I am doing this to save Natalie, now come on, old chap." Basil gently pushed me forward while still looking my way with some disappointment. "Honestly, I thought you were much braver than this. You are an army mouse, you have probably laughed in the face of danger."

"Yes, but at the thought of decapitation, laughter is the furthest thing from my mind!" I exclaimed, the words echoing off the walls. Basil sighed and rolled his eyes. "I am quite serious," I continued, lowering my voice. "I do not know how much more of this I can take. I feel as if I am in some sort of fun house."

"Oh, if you are having fun, do include me, too!" Basil winked. As we approached Ms Laveaux's side, I noticed she had rolled out a small map that crumbled in her hands. She studied it over for a few minutes before she finally looked at us. "So, what is next?" she asked, directing the question at the detective.

"How about leaving this place?" I asked hopefully.

"Dawson!" Basil hissed in a near growl before turning back to the map.

"Hmm... doesn't look easy." With a sigh, Ms Laveaux reached down and ripped her beautiful dress up to her knees, tossing the material on the ground. Before I could ask why she would do such a terrible thing to her dress, I watched her run forward to perform several flips, turns and jumps as a shower of darts shot out from the left side of the wall. Throwing a switch on the wall, she smiled and gestured us to move forward.

"What a show off," Basil meekly replied to me. As we walked forward, my eyes kept turning to the holes in the wall from where the darts shot from. "All right, it's my turn," Basil pouted as he gazed at her map. I could only shake my head when she looked to me.

"Perhaps you will do the next one, doctor-"

"I most certainly will not, young lady!"

"Very well, go ahead Basil, but if you don't mind, I'll hold this for you." Before he could protest, Ms Laveaux pulled off his deerstalker. Basil smirked and moved so far into the cavern that I could barely see him. All of a sudden, I caught my friend drop and roll as flames began to spew from both sides of the wall. I gasped and watched him roll safely at the entrance to the new room and stagger up on his knees to throw the 'OFF' switch. Ms Laveaux walked forward and smiled to him while clapping her hands. Returning to his feet, he gave a grand bow.

"Wonderful, my nimble detective. I am impressed."

"My hat if you please?"

Ms Laveaux tossed it to him and he caught it with ease.

The fourth and hopefully final trap was a room that we simply had to cross by staying on the center rock beam. Both sides of the floor, from what I could see, were nothing but an inky blackness of a hole that seemed to drop for miles. A strong wind erupted from the pit and cooled our faces as we neared the start of walking across the beam, and a narrow one at that. On either side of the beam was a poorly constructed netting of rope to prevent whomever crossed from falling off. It eased my fear a little knowing this rope was present, but I still did not like the fact of having to cross it at all. I inwardly wondered how deep the pit was and Basil attempted to answer my question by tossing down a found pebble. No splash, no hitting firm ground, there was no sound at all returning to our ears. It was a bottomless pit, or the bottom was so far down, the drop would be instantly fatal. I gulped again and gripped Basil's shoulders.

"O, heavenly Father, give me strength to make it across and out of this place alive…"

"Just walk straight, Dawson, one foot in front of the other, and whatever you do, don't look down." I nodded to my friend's words as we slowly crossed the beam with Ms Laveaux leading the way. Again the two seemed just fine, whistling came from my friend while Ms Laveaux hummed the same tune. On occasion I would check to see if I still had a pulse. Luck soon turned against us as we crossed that beam. Reaching the center, the entire room started to rumble and shake. Ms Laveaux paused to grip the rope on either side while we followed the same suit. Heavy rocks from the walls started to crumble and break off down into the pit, missing us by mere inches. I paused in my silent prayer to look up and see Basil turning his head left to right to watch the boulders drop down. He was actually smirking with amusement. Once the rumbling stopped, Ms Laveaux continued forward and reached the other side unharmed.

"That was a close one, wasn't it, gents?" Ms Laveaux said, her eyes wild with delight. Basil nodded with that smirk still on his face.

"What was that?" I asked, not caring which would answer me.

"Earthquake," they both lamely stated.

The whimpering sound grew louder as we entered the new cavern. Ms Laveaux was constantly looming her lantern on the ground while Basil kept his at arm's length when he took over to lead the way. I remained in the center of the two, afraid of what new trap would spring on us next. I suddenly felt each strand of fur stand on end when the whimper suddenly turned into a low moan. It was an unholy and unnatural sound that made me long to turn around and run as fast as my legs would carry me. I instantly looked to Basil when he paused and nearly backed into me.

"I believe we are being played for fools," I replied shakily to him.

"And I believe your medical expertise might come in handy at this point."

"My...my what?"

Basil looked to Ms Laveaux as she came around to face me. Her lantern cast such eerie shadows upon her form that I briefly shuddered at the sight of her. She pulled out her map and held it up for me to read. This parchment was so old, I honestly could not understand much of it. All that I could really follow was from what we experienced with the traps. I looked to the previous flame trap and then to the room that appeared empty. The moaning rose up once more and I almost yelped.

"Dr. Dawson, this child needs your help," Ms Laveaux replied quietly.

"C-child, w-what child? Where?"

Ms Laveaux moved to a darkened corner of the room and upon a small mouse. I gasped at the sudden appearance of a young boy, his leg sporting wide gashes. He whimpered lightly at first before dropping it several octaves low, creating the sound that had made all my fur stand upright.

"Poor lad," Basil remarked with a tisk. "He needs your help, doctor."

"Indeed. His wounds will require stitches...here..." Lowering myself beside the boy, I removed Miss Flaversham's satchel to remove my own knapsack and retrieve the proper tools to sew up his injured leg. Light appeared above from Basil's lantern when he moved closer to help me see what I was doing. The boy barely flinched as I worked at repairing the fragile pieces of skin.

"You are a true mouse of medicine, Dr. Dawson." Ms Laveaux replied once I completed my job and returned to a standing position.

"Well, uh, thank you Ms Laveaux." I smiled to her and felt my face heat with embarrassment. "I was only doing what I can to help the poor...boy?" I looked back down to see he had literally vanished from the ground! I blinked and rubbed my eyes. "What on earth...w-w-where did he go?"

"This cavern is full of many surprises, Dawson," Basil said warily. "The best thing to do is not question everything you see or hear."

"B-but, what I just did, w-was that a trap?"

Ms Laveaux shook her head. "No, that was a favor. Come on, doctor..." I looked down to her extended hand. I took it and once more felt coldness seer through my arm. Basil watched my reaction to her touch before turning away as if pretending he did not see it. I was beginning to wonder why I felt cold every time she touched me, but dared not question it. Not when Basil gave me those repeated looks.

An hour later, we were deep into the many caverns and deep below the main surface. I was so hungry, I was beginning to weaken in the knees. I briefly checked my pocket watch- it was eleven at night. Another hour and it would be morning. With my eyes low to the ground, I did not notice I had fallen far behind my companions. My mind raced with the constant desire to see the light of day again when I really should have been more alert to my surroundings. When I lifted my gaze, I must tell you what I witnessed almost made my heart stop. Basil and Ms Laveaux were no longer in front of me. Instead, I found myself staring back at a very deceased yet very animated mouse. His face was mere inches from my own and I could smell the hideous odor of decaying flesh. A low growl escaped from somewhere within his form as if it were very displeased to see me. That was all the wretch could do before I shouted and darted down another passageway.

I was finished with this underground fun house. No more games. I was tired, hungry, and deeply concerned that I would never see Basil again. However, to give up would be a fate worse than death and I was not about to throw in the towel. I forced myself to turn to a stronger side of bravery, for fear would only cause an untimely peril. I was a military mouse; I had to fight these foolish tricks and escape with my fur still intact.

The room I entered next was frightfully dark. I found myself stumbling over more discarded bones and various pieces of rubbish. Turning to a side pocket of my knapsack, I reached in for some matches. Without a lantern, I attempted to make my own illumination by finding a bone, torn fabric and wrapping the material around the end of the bone. I carefully lifted the lit match to the material and watched it set ablaze. I had made my own lantern, a torch to guide me through the rest of the mysterious cave.

"There, that is much better!" I sighed.

"Dawson!" a voice hissed from some corner of the new room. I turned to the sound and found no one. They repeated my name two more times, yet it extended to well over ten from the echo in the cave. I froze and waved my torch around to see who was there. The voice sounded as if it belonged to Basil, but I was not going to take any chances. I reminded myself there had been many tricks and traps we dealt with thus far. I could not respond to a voice without seeing his face first, and I was bound to find out who it was calling out to me.

The next room I entered was certainly at the point where all the bravery in the world would do no good. I began to feel a rise in the temperature once I entered a large cavern. The room was full of mice with all of their backs to me. From what I could see in the room, they were all female dressed in lavish, flowing dresses. There was no mistaking it, they were Pygmy mice. They all stood quietly with a slight left to right sway as if entranced by someone or something invisible to my own eyes. A brief roll of thunder echoed in the cave and shook the ground with such force, I almost fell to my knees. If I had known better, I would say that we traveled so far down into the lower levels of the earth, we had neared the center of a vast and very deadly lava pit. Suddenly, a hand clasped itself around my mouth and pulled me backwards into the darkness of the cave entrance. I was so relieved to see it was Basil. He placed a single finger to his lips as he slowly pulled his hand away from my mouth.

"Oh, Basil-"

"Shhh! Quiet, or you will give us both away."

"Both? W-w-where is Ms-"

"Never mind, come on...follow me...but douse this first..." I went to protest but Basil already grabbed my torch, dropped it to the floor, and kicked sand to extinguish it. We made our way around the cavern by sliding as quietly and carefully along the cavern wall towards a small, wooden door. I could feel my heart pounding with the returned fright of getting caught by these mice. They seemed, however, too much in a fog to even notice any movement behind them. Basil, of course, remained on guard and watched for any sudden turn of their heads.

Entering the room behind the wooden door, we found ourselves in what appeared to be a cold cavern refurnished as a closet for supplies and storage. I sighed heavily as I fell upon the floor. Basil continued to move forward to a table with some objects upon it. I took note that he was on the hunt for something very important. I remained quiet to let my friend do his job. He soon paused to hunch over a scroll and read it with eyes narrowing.

"A-ha!" Basil hissed with a smile. I did not want to ask what he discovered, but curiosity got the better of me.

"What have you found?"

"The plans for what our toymaker friend intends to do with Natalie tonight..."

"Er, our toymaker friend? Did I hear you right?"

"Yes, Dawson, you most certainly did." Basil lifted his gaze from the scroll.

"Not...not Ms Mosenthal? She was taken to jail."

"True, but I am afraid we are dealing with someone far more evil than her..." Basil's voice drifted as he moved over to find a small hole in the wall. His eyes darted in every direction of the wall until they rested upon a closed chest on the floor. A creak sound alerted my ears to stand up and see what he was up to with the chest. After some rummaging around, he lifted up a piece of earth-colored material. I gasped when I saw what it was.

"Basil, y-y-your torn coat!"

"Special delivery from the world-renowned toymaker...or rather, her little slaves brought it to her..."

"Ah...to her? To whom do you mean?" I barely walked over to Basil when he met me halfway to unhook my knapsack and hastily stuff his coat deep within it. Ignoring my inquiry, he motioned me over to the table where I was shown the scroll he had been reading to himself. I looked over the writing to see that it was in another language, African to be exact. One name, however, stood out as I read the scroll. A name I only heard once, and it was from another case of Basil's that took place before I came into his life.

Tabitha Wicks.

The name burned in my throat when the truth was finally revealed. It was all about revenge. The revenge of Basil rescuing the child from her evil clutches, the revenge of trying to find her all of these months until news came of Ratigan's death when she could once more pinpoint his next move. Ms Mosenthal was but a mere pawn in an even bigger scheme to destroy my friend as well as the young girl who almost shared the same fate as her parents.

"Why did you not tell me this, Basil?" I asked painfully.

"I did not wish to burden you with any of my past cases, Dawson. There were invisible strings attached to the girl's rescue. I got her out alive, and yet, a dark cloud followed us. Ms Laveaux and Ms Rosenberg assisted me in the case. Both women traveled with me to Africa to talk to the natives and get me to where Natalie was held captive."

I blinked with surprise. "When did this case exactly happen?"

"Early March, within the second week." Basil said. "I was originally on holiday when I received the case at my front door step. You know me well enough never to turn anyone away, even if it means traveling to another country."

"I sure do, Basil," I uttered with a quick wink, now wondering if this life I have with the detective will take me to many new and exciting places. Japan, Rome, Australia, the possibilities were endless. "Amazing, to think you would go half way around the world just for a case and to bring a criminal to justice."

"Now, you know why I love what I do so much," Basil replied. "I have rescued this child once from the same witch, and now she is at it again. This time, without her parents as a distraction, she will not give her up so easily." Sighing, he looked towards the door, then back to me. "All right, Dawson, enough chatter. We don't have much time. Come on-"

"Now, hang on, Basil! We are outnumbered! What do you plan to do?"

"You need not worry about that, old chap." Basil moved over to the same hole in the wall and began searching through it. Curiosity once more drew me closer to find him lifting up some dresses in multicolored patterns. I knew what his plan was, and I knew even more that I would not like it one bit!

ooooooooo

A/N: End of Chapter 9. Cue the Indiana Jones theme. I was starting to get bored with the usual romps around town and wanted to put the characters in a more challenging situation. After playing games of Tomb Raider and Thief: The Dark Project, I started using those ideas into the final chapters. I didn't mention it, but I had them travel over to Southport near the water's edge and from there, head down several levels below the surface to an underground hideaway.

Credit goes to beta reader Megana for any spelling, grammar and sentence repairs. Thank you, Megana!


	10. Chapter 10: Not a Moment to Lose

Chapter 10: Not a Moment to Lose

Time seemed to cease in this frightening underground world. The next few minutes were tense and had to be done delicately. One false move and it was the end of my very short career with Basil, the famous detective of our world. We entered the storage room as ourselves and left it as a pair of two Pygmy female mice dressed in the finest skirts and robes Africa has to offer. I had to slip on a rather thick veil below my nose to hide my mustache. The other swaying female mice paid us no mind as we slipped through to make our way to the front. I soon took Basil by the hand without the realization of doing so. I was not too sure if it was all right to do, but I knew if I did not, I would have lost him in the swaying crowd. Basil briefly looked down to my hand, nodded in acknowledgment, and gripped it to pull me forward. This ended up giving off an awful signal.

"Oh...lovers!" A mouse hissed beside my ear.

"I beg your pardon-er..." I changed my voice to a higher, feminine octave. "Sorry?"

"Lovers..." The mouse giggled and placed her hands upon both of ours. "Our mother would be so proud!"

I tried to giggle like a female and found it very hard to do. Clearing my throat, I replied, "Oh, but not as proud as we are to be together!" Basil, after hearing all of this, finally turned around with a face of disgust. At the sight of the mouse holding our hands, however, he quickly put on an act of the opposite gender.

"We wish to marry at once and we must see our mother immediately!" Basil replied in the best female voice I never thought I would hear. Even I was impressed at how he easily altered it to sound so sweet and innocent.

"Certainly! We are gathered here for an important evening, but I am sure she can include this wonderful ceremony!"

Was Basil out of his mind? Was I out of my own mind for agreeing to this outrageous scheme? Yes, we were incredibly daft to follow this young mouse to the ruler of this place. My friend must have had some formed plan up his flowered sleeve to continue forward to wherever this 'mother' roamed. I followed with reluctance, hoping to leave here as soon as possible. Once we left the main hall, my eyes tried to focus on the darkness and what lay ahead of them. My excitement almost gave us away when I saw a familiar face. Trapped in a large steel cage was poor Natalie, whimpering and staring out at us.

"Oh, that poor child! Locked in a cage!"

"Why does this surprise you?" The female mouse asked me with suspicion. I caught Basil grit his teeth in the corner of my eye. "You already knew she was captured, right?"

"Oh, ho ho ho, but of course she knew!" Basil chortled with arms waving in grand gestures. I could not help but look his way when he made that ridiculous laugh. "She was just a little shocked to see her in such a dreadful state!" The female mouse nodded, but still held a gaze of uncertainty to his answer. I looked to Natalie a second time and shook my head. I silently prayed wherever Ms Laveaux was, she would find and help us as soon as possible.

"Please wait here. Our mother will be with you both shortly," the female mouse said, turning on her heel and walking away from us. I waited till she was long gone and out of ear shot range before I moved over to Natalie's cage. Basil also waited for the female mouse to leave to resume his normal speaking voice.

"That was annoying," Basil said as he cleared his throat. "I never thought I could utter such a dreadful sound!"

"You mean you've never had to cross-dress as a woman before?" I asked. There was silence for a few seconds. I turned to see Basil glaring at me.

"No, Dawson."

Blinking, I quickly continued with, "Well, I thought it sounded very convincing." Basil simply scoffed as I turned back to the cage. "Oh, Natalie, are you all right?" I knelt down beside it and placed my hand into hers through the bars. Lowering my gaze, I could see another form inside the cage. Her body was curled up and pressed against the far end of the bars with her face covered in her arms.

Basil started to talk a little in a low voice. "She should be fine, Dawson, but, please, I have something important to tell you that I feel you should -"

"Basil! Oh, forgive me for interrupting, but come look! Someone else is in this cage!" Basil rushed over, bent down, and looked in at the two in the cage. The unknown form finally lifted her head and turned in our direction, crawling over to sit beside Natalie. As soon as I saw who it was, my insides began to chill and I could not help but gawk at her.

"Oh, my friend. You did it anyway, didn't you? After I specifically told you to stay in London..." Basil sighed next to the start of her small sniffles, taking her extended hand and clutching it. He looked down to her hand and clasped it tightly. Something very strange was going on and I could not figure out what it was until the answers were finally and verbally given.

"I couldn't let you go alone, Basil, I just couldn't," the woman whispered, sniffing and bowing her head upon his hand.

"Ms Laveaux, how did you get yourself caught?" I asked. They both turned to me.

"Who is that, Basil?" Ms Laveaux asked as if she did not recognize me. I was still wearing the female disguise, but surely she would have recognized my voice. Frowning, she asked, "Are you Dr. Dawson?"

"Madam, of course it's me! How could you ask such a ridiculous question?" Ms Laveaux shook her head and looked to Basil next in puzzlement. "Basil, what is going on?"

"We were tricked, Dawson."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That was not the real Ms Laveaux who's been traveling with us," Basil said, cupping the woman's chin. "This is the real Ms Laveaux, and she's been down here the whole time."

"The real... ? But, but, that's impossible!" I spat with wide eyes. I looked to her again, yes, it was definitely her, but I could not come to the conclusion of how we were tricked, how it was possible to do so. I looked to Basil once more with the perplexed gaze remaining. "Basil, tell me this isn't true?"

"Take his hand, Maddie," Basil instructed the older girl in the cage.

"Maddie?" Both of my eyebrows lifted to the informality, but Basil ignored me. Before I could protest or back away, the girl reached out and grabbed my hand. A sudden wave of warmth shot up my arm, causing me to blink and stare at her. "What on earth...Basil!"

"I have my reasons never to trust women, however, so very few have earned the privilege of working with me. While on the case of finding this child, Ms Laveaux saved my life. She is a healer, and I have no doubt in my mind her initial touch at the hospital was cold, correct?" I could only turn to him and remain silent. "As I said, we were tricked."

"But, tricked how? What do you mean by-"

"Good evening, detective." A voice echoed behind our backs. I jumped up and swung around first to face an exact duplicate of Ms Laveaux gliding into the room. I looked to Basil and caught his eyes narrow to the woman with deep hatred.

"Ms Laveaux? But, but I thought-" I looked to the cage again, now seeing a mirrored appearance of the two. The woman beside Natalie looked exactly like the woman who had appeared at the hospital and followed us all the way down here. I continued to turn my head between the two until the one standing upright suddenly morphed into her true form, one with a devilish grin and small, harsh eyes. My heart began to race with fear.

"If it isn't the lady of the hour," Basil said, eyeing her closely. "Tabitha Wicks. I knew it was you all along, ever since your arrival at the hospital when you made one fatal mistake."

"Really?" she said, raising one eyebrow. "And what was that?"

"Physical contact," Basil said, calmly removing the female disguise. I quickly did the same with my own disguise, thankful to get the dress and veil off. "No matter how you speak, how you dress, or how you disguise your appearance, you made the mistake of touching my arm. The moment I felt a cold sensation instead of warmth, I knew right away you were not Ms Laveaux."

"Bravo, detective," she said, clapping her hands in weak applause. "Though, I must say I am getting quite good with the transformation spell." Shrugging, she turned to me to smile at my surprised expression. "I fooled your buffoonish doctor, at least."

"Why did you do it?" I had to ask with my eyes now narrowing. "Why bring us all the way down here if you knew we would try and stop you?"

"I thought I should perhaps give the detective one last feeble attempt to save his friends," Ms Wicks said with a sly smirk at Basil. "I owe it to him since our last encounter ended so abruptly. Oh, and I must congratulate you on surviving my many obstacles. You really are one nimble mouse." Winking, she looked down to Ms Laveaux and Natalie. "And now comes the moment you've been waiting for. You came just in time to see two sacrifices instead of one."

"Correction," Basil sneered and glared at her. "I came just to time to rescue the two sacrifices instead-"

"Oh, enough with the heroics, you nosy sleuth!" Ms Wicks groaned. "The many months of searching for this child have once and for all come to an end. Her cruel and evil ways will finally cease just as they did with her parents. We sacrifice her and Ms Laveaux tonight!"

"Not on my watch you won't, Ms Wicks," Basil pointed to her and began to take closer steps. "That child is not cruel, she never was."

"Her voodoo doll has caused you pain and suffering-"

"She has only built one creation that turned evil and it was a mistake. She did not know her creation would be given to Professor Ratigan and used against me." Briefly looking to the child, he added, "I have already forgiven her for the mistreatment of her creation upon me, and that redeems her in Loa's eye."

"That is one redemption against several other lives she has destroyed!" Ms Wicks snarled.

Basil shook his head. "You are wrong. All of her creations were made for good fortune; that is her gift. Whatever became of the other dolls was out of her hands and out of her control. Now..." Lowering his eyes further, he said with more force, "I command you to stop this sacrifice ceremony at once. Choose to end their lives tonight, and I will gladly end yours."

"You and what army? Mr. Portly?" Ms Wicks said with a laugh and looked in my direction. I stiffened to that remark, feeling my face warm with anger and hands curling into fists.

"My friend here of military status," Basil gestured to me, "followed by time itself..." He tapped at his pocket watch. "Ten minutes to twelve-"

"Seize them now!" Ms Wicks waved a hand and I suddenly felt hands grabbing and holding me down. Several female mice came from all directions and placed their weight upon me, pulling me to the ground. Basil backed away from the surprise attack and maneuvered behind the girl's cage, using it as a shield. In a swift move, Basil kicked downward at the lock of the cage, causing it to snap and crumble to the ground. He must have known the lock was frail or he would have found another way to remove it. In another swift move, he yanked the cage door open and grabbed the nape of Natalie' neck.

Ms Laveaux crawled out of the cage next and ran out of the room, disappearing from sight. I was secretly glad she escaped, but wondered where she ran off to when it did not lead to the way out. Ms Wicks was now inches from Basil after he pulled the child into his arms. With a shout, he rolled to one side as she sliced the air with a found…axe? This woman had definitely gone too far. My eyes moved over to see her swinging the axe around like a deranged executioner. Basil soon fell to the ground and proceeded to roll from side to side to avoid the swings of the axe. Ms Wicks roared with anger, causing Natalie to shriek in his arms.

"Basil, help!" I called out from the mass of females who kept me pinned down. I finally began to throw my arms out in wild swings, knocking some down and away from myself. I rolled away while two others jumped on me, once more pinning me down. These women did everything from clawing, biting, punching and kicking as I tried to shield my face from the attacks.

"Get them!" A familiar female voice shouted as I turned to see Ms Laveaux reenter with a fair amount of female mice charging behind her. I later learned the whole time she was a prisoner down here, any servants who encountered her; she somehow convinced them to turn against Ms Wicks. I could not have been more thrilled to see we were not far too outnumbered after all.

Ms Laveaux reached my side and pulled me out of the tangled web of the female mice. A few kicks and pushes got me to her warm arms and her created army of allies. I regret to say that due to their similar attire, I could not tell who was on our side once the brawl began. Ms Laveaux could see I was weak from the attack and pulled me further out of the room to the safety of the dark hallway. Hearing a second shriek, I witnessed little Natalie running as fast as she could past us with Ms Wicks hot on her trail. Ms Laveaux left me to followed suit as I dared to see what became of my poor friend. I found Basil sitting up against the wall, panting heavily and clutching his arm where one good slice caused him great damage. A deep gash from the axe bore angrily into his right arm with blood pouring all over his coat and trousers.

"Oh, Basil -"

"No! Don't worry about me- get the girls out of here!" He hissed as he pushed my reaching hands away from him.

I nodded and turned to trail after the fleeting females. To my regret, I could not find anyone except for the brain-drained females in the main cavern. I tried the small closet and almost lost my head had I not ducked from the horizontal slice of an axe. Ms Wicks stared me down with one hand holding her weapon, the other with Natalie.

"Get out of the way fatso-"

"Never!" I managed to say with as much courage as I could muster. "Let her go!"

"I will let her go...into the lava pit! Move!" I stood my ground and attempted to tackle the woman, only having to force myself to dodge another fierce slice from her swinging axe. Ms Wicks shoved her way past me and over to her swaying minions. As I turned to follow behind, I could hear her muttering odd chants in her native language. A mouse suddenly shouted and jumped out at her from the crowd of females. Ms Laveaux threw herself upon the witch.

"No!" She screamed as the pounce sent Natalie dangerously out of Ms Wick's grasp and closer to the gap of the lava pit. The child rolled and her legs fell down below the edge of the cliff. She screamed and clung to the side as I cursed at myself for being so overweight and running too slow to reach her. Ms Laveaux slammed Ms Wicks to the ground and followed after me. At the edge, I started to reach for the child, feeling the incredible heat of the lava upon my fur.

"Natalie, hang on, no, don't look down -"

"Watch out, doctor!"

Ms Laveaux rolled us both to the side as the blade of the axe came down inches from us. Ms Wicks growled and pushed Ms Laveaux with such force, she sent her falling into the lava pit! I gasped, but could not react just yet when I was still trying to escape the deadly blade of the axe. Natalie screamed harder and started to move her fingers in a desperate attempt to climb up on her own. The gravel gave way and my heart almost exploded with the utmost shock. They both were gone from view; I could not believe it. Turning onto my back to face Ms Wicks, she lifted the axe as high as she could and was ready to strike me down. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she paused. I was able to move away as she slowly dropped the axe and lowered herself to the ground. As she fell forward, I spied a large ruby dagger pierced in her back. Standing directly behind her several feet away was Basil holding his damaged arm.

"Basil! Are you-"

"Never mind me!" Basil staggered over to the edge and looked down the pit. With a gasp, he began to lower himself down to a point that I could only see his legs and shoes. I grabbed onto his legs as I heard him begin to shout. "No, don't- no- no- NOOOO!" Before my very eyes, I saw my friend falling down further into the pit and gripped his legs tighter. I immediately started to pull back Basil's legs with any strength I had left in me. The detective growled and began to kick at my hands in protest.

"Damn it, Dawson, let me go! Let me go this instant!" Ignoring his words, I pulled him into my own shaking arms as I dragged him away from the pit. Basil started to painfully moan out a number of obscenities in my face as he gripped the front of my coat. Eyeing me closely, he roared, "What is wrong with you? Why did you pull me away like that?"

I began to stutter in shock. "B-but, y-you w-were falling, and-"

"No, I wasn't, you foolish man! Confound it, I almost had them!" Basil spat in my face and began to shake me with full and uncontrollable anger. "I almost had them and you made me lose them! Do you hear me?" Punching my chest, he exclaimed and hit on every word, "I lost them both!"

"Basil, you would have fallen if I didn't pull you back-"

"NO! I could have saved them! I saw the child, she was inches from my grasp..." He sighed and dropped harshly upon the ground, his sides heaving in and out. "This wasn't supposed to happen! This was NOT supposed to happen!" Basil quickly looked over to Ms Wicks with incredible hatred and snarled, "Curse you, you evil witch!"

"Basil, I'm -" I reached over to tap his arm, but he smacked away my hand. "Dash it all, Basil, would it kill you to show me some gratitude here?" Basil squinted his eyes in my direction. "Don't give me that look! I know you're hurting! I know you tried to save those girls, but you couldn't do it! If I had not pulled you up, you would have joined them! For heaven's sakes, I saved your life!"

"Yes, you saved my life..." Basil began softly. "You saved my life so that now I can forever live with the guilt..."

"Please, don't talk like that-"

"I failed them, Dawson, I have failed them both and I will never forgive myself. Never!" My friend turned away from me, his sides beginning to calm down a little. We sat quietly for several long minutes, trying to recollect ourselves the best that we could. Basil was beating himself up inside yet knew deep down he would have died had I not pulled him back towards me. He strongly held back the tears that tried so hard to pour from his eyes. Anger clouded his thoughts along with a face of utter defeat. He refused to cry in front of me, refused to show he was mourning not just their deaths but also his failure to save them. I had to think of something fast to get his mind off of it and looked over to Ms Wicks' unmoving body.

"Do you think she is dead?"

"I hope she is so that she can burn in Hell!" Basil growled with a low sniff. I turned my gaze back to the ground and at my hands, noting they still had a minimal shake to them. My heart slowed down and my breath was back to a steady pace, but this loss of two young innocents we were meant to rescue will forever haunt me. I felt movement along with gravely footsteps approaching me. I turned to see a hand with the palm face up coaxing to take my own. "Come, Dawson, we have a long journey ahead of us." I took Basil's hand and he helped me up onto my feet. We began to walk out of the caverns when a voice called out to us.

"Lovers?" The female mouse who mistook Basil and I for...ah...a couple, approached our side. Seeing our standard men's clothing certainly caused a single eyebrow to rise. "What is this? What has happened to you?"

"Well, my dear," Basil turned to face her with a small grin despite his current depression. "We are really males, but not a couple, your so-called mother was really an evil witch who wanted to sacrifice two women, and she was brain-washing all of you to do the deed at midnight." The poor mouse blinked in confusion and remained silent. "I knew you would understand it perfectly, now if you'll excuse us..."

We returned to the main entrance a lot quicker due to the many traps switched off from our first trip inward. I could not get over losing Ms Laveaux and Natalie, yet I had to keep a stiff upper lip. I was surprised to see Basil holding up so well after losing his long-time friend and a child he attempted to protect with his own life. Once the visions of seeing that little girl came into my head, I could not help but sniff and break down. I felt a tap of condolence on my arm.

"I know, Dawson, I know..."

"I - I guess this means we will have to lift the curse of this doll on our own?"

"Not exactly." Basil looked my way. "We can take the doll to Ms Rosenberg, something we should have done in the very beginning, before all of this madness started." I did not need to remind him of the break-in at our flat, something we did not expect to have happened so soon. It was all in the past now, and we had to move on. We continued out of the dark caves and into the cold, familiar streets of the upper world. Ms Wicks was killed by Basil's hand yet it cost the lives of Ms Laveaux and Natalie. I had much to recover from that morning.


	11. Chapter 11: Final Decisions

Chapter 11: Final Decisions

A dense fog had rolled through the early morning hours as Basil and I hopped off the last cab outside Ms Laveaux's shelter. It was four thirty according to my watch and, by that point, I was not sure whether I wanted to eat or sleep. While Basil's gash needed tending to, he first sat down on a cot to write out a letter to someone. I turned my back for a brief moment when I felt a swift movement from behind. Basil had quickly left to post it at the nearest letterbox. He returned no later than ten minutes and carefully began to remove his blood-soaked coat, sucking in a breath at the painful movement. I had seen battle wounds enough to last me a lifetime. Many of who received such wounds was soldiers I never received a first or last name. It often was an assembly line to dress cuts, bruises, burns, and even body parts that were literally hanging by a thread. Yes, I had seen a lot of blood in my time as a surgeon, and it was no different with Basil's wounded arm. However, what made me feel sympathetic was that it was someone I knew, befriended, and deeply cared for. He may not have been a soldier serving his country, but being a private consulting detective deserved just as much commendation. The stubborn mouse was also too modest when I offered to assist him with his wound.

"Would you like me to help you-"

"Not at all, Dawson," Basil said, waving a hand and turning away from me. "I will, however, need the sewing items from your knapsack, please."

"Right away, Basil. It's very fortunate I have enough suture material left over," I said, eyeing the dreadful gash. Basil took no time in cleaning the wound and sewing up his own arm. I could no longer hold in the curiosity and blurted out, "Who was that letter for?"

"For Ms Rosenberg," Basil reached over to snatch up my pair of scissors. "I gave her a brief update on our progress and that her assistance will be much needed... with a particular object." He caught my eyes widening and waved nonchalantly with his free hand. "Don't worry, old chap, I've learned to spare many details should a letter never reached its proper destination. Besides, she does not need to know two lives perished in a volcanic cavern while I took another life by throwing a dagger directly into the back of a voodoo priestess."

"I should say not." I shook my head. "By the way, where did you get that dagger?"

"Simple, Dawson. I wished for it," Basil grinned. I squinted to those words. Without him explaining, I had to remind myself the room we were in had a small assortment of weapons. Ms Wicks chose her large weapon while Basil placed a smaller one into his coat pocket. My friend added with a chuckle, "It would seem my many years of playing darts have certainly paid off." I nodded quietly, my mind once again seeing the vision of the two women falling to their deaths. It was no surprise that I would have nightmares of that scene playing repeatedly in my head. My silence, along with my expression, piqued my friend's attention. "You're thinking about it again I see."

"Oh, I cannot help it, Basil! Those poor girls!" I heard him sigh and end it with a groan. "I still cannot get over the fact that-"

"Well, get over it," his voice snapped unexpectedly. I blinked and turned to see him staring downward and sewing up his own arm. He briefly looked my way with a clearing of his throat. "Forgive my brashness, but you are no help to me when your thoughts continue to linger in the past. They are gone, Dawson. We tried to save them and we failed."

"Are you not the least bit upset?"

There was a long pause before he spoke. "I do have very deep regrets, and I will for the rest of my life," he nodded assuredly. "However, what good am I to anyone if I keep fretting over my errors? Yes, I am upset, and rightfully so, but let me remind you that this is not the first time someone has died on my watch. I have solved cases, but lost lives in the process and there is nothing I can do to change what's happened. Do you understand?"

"Of course I do, Basil," I also nodded. "I will never forget this case, not for a very long time, and I am certain to have terrible nightmares no thanks to that evil witch of a toymaker."

"Which one?" Basil quietly asked in mild interest. "Ms Mosenthal or Ms Wicks?"

"Er, both, I suppose," I shrugged, looking towards him. "I would not doubt your nights were often restless from past adventures." Basil said nothing and continued mending his arm. "No, I have nightmares of my own from all that I have seen in my military days. And I must admit, after shaking your hand, I've now been introduced to hardened criminals, vile murders, evil schemes, and yes, even the supernatural. That certainly can all be added to the list of frightful images."

"Welcome to my world, doctor," Basil finally said, lifting up a minimal smirk. With another nod, I felt my stomach rumble with hunger. I had hoped he did not hear it, but nothing could escape this mouse. "I am almost done here, but perhaps you should go on ahead and help yourself to some food?" I looked to him again with a reddened face that showed some embarrassment. He only continued to grin. "Go on, old chap, I know you have not eaten for several hours and are withering away from severe starvation."

"Well, I would not say severe starvation…however, I should step out for a small bite…before I eat this…" I slowly gestured to my hat, catching his smirk lifting higher.

"Hmm, I don't know, Dawson. You should pour some marmalade on it first…might help flavor it a little." Hearing me scoff, Basil chuckled harder. "Oh, get a move on for goodness sakes!"

oooooooooo

Later that day, Basil and I got on the next train bound for London. I was more than ready to end this case and return home to my own room and Mrs. Judson's delicious meals. Lifting the curse from the voodoo doll was something I wish I could have witnessed, but was not permitted to. Basil and Ms Rosenberg sat in a back room of her apothecary shop with the cursed tool itself while I stayed in the front area. After an hour had passed, I looked up to see Ms Rosenberg slowly approaching me with the doll in hand. I watched her sit down and hold it as if it were a small infant.

"Well? Has the curse been lifted?" I asked.

"I have cleansed the doll accordingly, Dr. Dawson," Ms Rosenberg said slowly. "However, the spirit is still the same and could easily turn evil again, but when Basil explained who will have ownership of this doll, a little girl, I am sure the spirit will remain dormant inside." Pausing, she looked to the doll, then up at me. "I am so sorry for what has happened to the two girls. I know he did all that he could to save them. Madeline was such a dear and the child, oh, she was so precious." Sniffing, she added, "Their deaths made it even more difficult for Mr. Basil to concentrate with me. He may not show it on the outside, but his failure to save them is hurting him greatly on the inside."

"I, too, am not handling their deaths too well," I replied solemnly. "This may sound odd, but I seem to have developed a strong attachment to both girls, to Natalie the most. The attachment, I...I felt as though they were family members of mine, two young, beautiful daughters. Is that a normal feeling?"

"It is when it comes from two individuals that possess such strong levels of positive energy." Ms Rosenberg stood up again and continued to gaze at the doll. "Little Natalie was a child of pure good; she loved everyone she came in contact with, even those that did not deserve it. Madeline was a healer and wanted to help in any way that she could. When both girls entered your life, their essences attached to yours and Basil's souls. That is why you feel the way you do for their losses. They were not average mice. They had special gifts and abilities."

"Are you filling my associate's head with nonsense again?" a voice asked from the doorway. I glanced up to see Basil standing there with arms crossed. His clothes had been washed of the bloodstains while the rest of him appeared quite healthy despite the current perturbed expression. Shaking his head, he added, "Honestly, my dear. I cannot leave you alone with the good doctor for five minutes without you sprinkling such talk into that logical-thinking brain of his."

"Basil!" I exclaimed. I was so thrilled to see him looking like his normal self that I moved over and gripped his side in a one-armed hug. "Please, my friend, tell me you are all right now?"

"The same as I was an hour before I left this room," Basil grinned broadly. I found myself trying to ask what she did to lift the curse, but my words came out in unusual stutters. Basil lifted a hand and began to reply, "It is too complicated to explain all that she did, but the main thing is, the curse has been lifted. It's all over." I squinted as he gestured to the doll. "Since the current owner is a child of pure good, the doll should remain that way as well."

"So, you are giving the doll back to Miss Flaversham?"

"If her father will allow her to have it, then yes. I do not need to keep it as a reminder over the triumph of Professor Ratigan, nor of this case." Basil shrugged, chuckling with, "It would be rather silly for a grown mouse such as myself to keep a doll of, well...myself." I watched him lift the doll and hold it without falling to the ground or reacting to sudden pain. Maintaining his smile, he said, "After all, Miss Flaversham did tell me she has a fondness for dolls."

A few days later, I woke up on the twelfth day of August and remembered that was the day of the next full moon. I watched my friend all hours as he worked on his latest case. He seemed in good form and not thinking of curses or the end of his life once the full moon emerged. The curse had to be lifted; I was determined to see that he would make it through the entire day and up until the stroke of twelve. My staring surely annoyed him by the time he noticed I was playing the role of his constant shadow.

"Dawson, would you mind leaving me to enter this room on my own?" he asked dryly, pointing to the water closet.

"Only if you promise you will not fall and hit your head on the sink."

Pouting, he replied, "I promise I will not fall and hit my head on the sink."

"Good-"

"Now, go away!"

oooooooooo

Saturday the fourteenth, Basil received a letter that sent us to Waterloo Station and, from there, to Manchester. I suddenly realized we were about to say a final goodbye to two friends. Miss Flaversham posted a letter explaining she and her father were leaving for Glasgow, Scotland and wrote down their departure time and date. The time was six in the evening on Sunday, the fifteenth. It was a back and forth debate of seeing them before they left for good. Basil mentioned a few times he could mail the doll to her new residency, but in the end, we chose to see them for one last time.

We left London Saturday morning and arrived in Manchester some time in the afternoon. Flaversham was walking down the stairs with a large suitcase in hand as we entered his shop. It seemed he had just woken from a nap and was continuing to pack their belongings for their departure. I took a moment to observe the toymaker as he smiled pleasantly in our direction. He looked worn since the unknown illness struck him with more wrinkles under his eyes and a bit of a slower movement to his walk. Basil stepped across the room to help take the heavy suitcase from his trembling hands and place it on the floor.

"Ah, hello there, lads, it's so good to see you again. Thank you, Mr. Basil, and thank you both for coming by to visit." Flaversham finished with a small sigh, seeming as if it were an effort to even speak. "I reckon you read my daughter's letter, and it is true. We have both decided this move is for the best. I have a friend who owns a toy shop in Glasgow that can help me get back on my feet again."

"We want to wish you and your daughter all the best, Flaversham," I told him, with Basil nodding quietly in agreement. "Where is your daughter?" Flaversham raised a finger in the manner to lower my voice and pointed upward. "Oh, my, it's after one in the afternoon. Is she all right?"

"She was released from hospital on Monday and decided to return to her work the following day," Flaversham replied softly. "I told her not to go back, but she wanted to earn as much money as she could before we left. It seems when she is here, she remembered what happened and it upsets her greatly."

The three of us allowed the child to rest as we walked down to the nearest pie shop to sit and have a cup of tea. I could not stop fretting over Flaversham's health. I continued to ask what all of his symptoms consisted of when he first became ill last Wednesday evening. I refused to believe that his declining health was from a mere doll. It was far too absurd to accept. It was, however, a strange coincidence that the illness occurred shortly after it was brought into their home. The subject was brought up again of why it would harm Flaversham when the only victim was supposed to be Basil. He could only say that the doll was so evil, it chose to hurt anyone it wanted for no reason at all.

"Did you destroy the doll, Mr. Basil?" Flaversham asked while reaching for his teacup.

Basil shook his head no. "Actually, Mr. Flaversham, I was going to return it to its rightful owner: your daughter." Flaversham almost choked on his tea. "I know she will want it, and I can assure you the doll is no longer evil."

"Out of the question," Flaversham stammered with a shaking hand curling into a fist. "I will not subject my daughter to such things."

I tried to help next. "But, Ms Rosenberg is a good friend and we trust her. She said the doll is perfect now that the curse was lifted-"

"I don't care if she lifted ten curses! You are not giving that Devil's toy back to my daughter and that is final!" Flaversham shouted with the same curled fist now slamming down on the table. The vibration sent his teaspoon flying into my direction and onto my pie plate. "That thing never should have been created! It has brought us nothing but heartache."

"As you wish, Flaversham," Basil replied stiffly and quietly. The old mouse's expression softened once more to the same tired one we first saw upon arrival. I carefully reached for the fallen teaspoon to reset it on the saucer, never once taking my eyes off of the toymaker, trying to anticipate what he might do next. He only heaved a long sigh and leaned back in his chair to look between us both, his eyes filled with tears.

"Please, forgive my outburst, but I simply cannot begin to tell you two how much this has taken its toll on me. I may not be as young as you, detective, but ever since she got that horrid doll…I feel as though I've aged twenty years in just this last week." He sighed again and moved forward to lace his trembling fingers together. "She will be perfectly fine with not having the doll in her life...however..." Sighing for a third time, he turned his gaze directly onto Basil. "She is not fine with the idea of not having you in her life." Basil and I looked to one another as he went on. "It's true, lads, she has not done much packing because she does not want to move to Scotland. She would rather return to London so that she can visit you more often. I...I never realized how much my daughter admires you both. Especially you, Mr. Basil."

"Oh, my..." I mumbled, turning to Basil for a second time to catch him staring at Flaversham rather calmly.

"I knew the news would have shocked you, Mr. Basil," Flaversham said evenly.

"This is news that I never thought I'd hear you say, Flaversham…" Basil began, "…but, it is also news that I have known all along." I could not agree more and nodded without looking at either of the two. Silence reigned for several minutes as the import of the words spoken between Basil and Flaversham sunk in.

"Could...could you do me a favor, Mr. Basil?" Both of our eyes looked up at him questionably. "Perhaps you could talk to her tonight, convince her that I am making the right decision? She won't listen to me, so if she heard it from you, it will help her to understand better."

"I don't know, Flaversham," Basil shook his head and twisted his fingers nervously around his cloth napkin. "No offense, but you and I both know she can be a stubborn little girl. I put my foot down and told her she could not accompany us when searching for Fidget, and yet she still followed behind." Eyes rolling, he added, "Not to mention she started begging at the promise of keeping quiet and obedient."

"Why not just move back to London, Flaversham?" I lightly offered. "If I was not mistaken, I saw a Help Wanted sign at Hamleys. If they are still hiring, you can try for a position there until you get your own shop up and running." Flaversham looked to Basil for his opinion. My friend remained silent with his eyes now fixed upon his twisting fingers in the napkin. Small beads of sweat began to slide down his temple.

"That is a good idea, but no, I cannot see myself ever going back to London. I cannot see myself and my daughter living in the same city where I lost my shop and was kidnapped by that horrible bat." Flaversham paused and placed his shaking arms upon the tablecloth. "Besides, I want to give this offer a chance. My friend is waiting for us and is looking forward in helping in any way that he can. I have decided to go to Scotland, and that, lads, is my final decision."

"Well, then, good luck talking to the girl, Basil," I smirked as Basil slid his eyes over in my direction.

Turning mischievous, he chuckled with, "Hmph, at this rate, Flaversham would have better luck bounding and stuffing her in a piece of luggage." Flaversham gawked at those words while I finally saw the humor in such a thought and also let out a light chuckle. Basil grinned over at the toymaker's expression. "What? At least it would be a nice, quiet ride to Glasgow."

"You…you're not serious, are you?" he huffed.

"Hardly, my good man. Hardly." Basil winked.

My poor friend was in a positive mood up until returning to the toyshop when he started to dread the thought of having a one-on-one conversation with the stubborn girl. It did not seem we were gone that long, but it was enough time to enter the shop and discover that the place was entirely empty, including upstairs. My own heart sank as Flaversham began calling out his daughter's name and stomping around in every room in the upstairs flat. Basil rested up against the counter in the shop and listened to the frantic calls while I eventually moved upstairs to see if the girl had decided to play a game of Hide and Seek. Her father and I must have searched every nook and cranny of that top floor and she was nowhere in sight. At the final attempt of doing another search in her father's bedroom, I found a note had fallen onto the floor behind his bureau. I hastily read it to myself and gasped at the words.

"Basil! Basil!" I rushed down the small flight of stairs and shoved the note into his hands. "She's gone! She's run away!" Flaversham trampled down the stairs and almost fell to his knees had I not moved over to catch him in mid-air. The poor man was wheezing and panting to an extent I began to worry he was going to faint. Basil calmly straightened up and looked over the note, reading it out loud:

"Dear Daddy, I've flown the coop. I don't want to go to Scotland, so I've run away to live somewhere else, a secret place only I know about. You can look high and low, but you'll never find me."

"This is so unlike her. Oh, what have I done?" Flaversham collapsed in my arms. "Where could she have gone?"

"Hmm..." Basil cupped his hand to his chin and read over the words repeatedly. "Flown the coop...a secret place...can look high and low..." Smacking the paper with the back of his hand, he darted his eyes to us with a wild expression. "A ha! I have an idea of where she has run off to, but it will require a bit of a trek by carriage. Dawson, you wait here with Flaversham, he is in no condition to travel."

"W-where are you going?" I asked, moving Flaversham to the nearest chair. Basil did not answer, but instead, swiftly headed out with a slam to the door.

oooooooooo

A light drizzle put a slight damper to the detective's unexpected trip out to a place he had hoped to arrive to in a moment's notice. Judging by his pocket watch at half past five, he knew it would be dusk by the time he reached his destination. The carriage ride was a long and bumpy route, but he held on with his head turned outward at the different street signs he crossed. Upon reaching the correct street, he hopped off and ran towards a wide iron gate, pausing to read the sign: Ardwick Green Park. The thin mouse easily slipped through the closed entrance and began to run along the grass fields in search of a particular hollow tree. It took him a long time to examine every single tree until he came across one bearing a camouflage button within its bark. Basil depressed the button, opening a small door to reveal a hole within the tree. As he suspected, the hole contained a rope ladder leading upward to another emptying out onto a tree branch several feet off the ground. The drop would be a simple jump for a human child yet a fatal one to a mouse.

Basil continued to climb the rope rings of the ladder inside the tree, squinting and avoiding numerous bugs or spiders that crawled around him. It was very clammy and warm inside the hole, making him slightly nauseous to the odor of the damp bark. Regardless of the smell, he kept climbing with head and eyes both facing upward. Soon, he began to feel a cool, welcoming breeze as he neared the exit of the second hole. Pushing the door open, he was out on a high branch with a view of a small house nestled against the center of the tree. Basil peered through the window. There was a single lantern lit upon a small end table, providing very little illumination.

"Just as I thought," he whispered at the sight of a mouse sleeping on a sofa against the opposite wall. Basil twisted the doorknob as quietly as he could and entered the tree house, cursing under breath when his head met with a low beam. This caused the brim of his deerstalker to slump down over his eyes, temporarily blinding him. It was a painful realization to say the least that this home was not designed for adults, especially tall ones. Basil groaned and ducked his head, noting he had to keep his back curved while inside the house. The children did a wonderful job at furnishing their little flat in the sky with an assortment of some wooden chairs, a small table and the sofa where he found her. He took no time in moving across the room and kneeling down to tap her shoulder. The young girl stirred and turned over to blink upward at a mouse with a very cross expression.

"Good evening, Miss Flangerhanger."

"I can explain," she said softly.

"There is no need to when your letter revealed plenty of information for me to follow." Basil sighed and shifted to sit more comfortably. Whispering to try and conceal the disappointment in his voice, he began the lecture she was expecting to hear. "How could you do such a thing to your father? To Dawson and myself? You could have been seriously hurt and there is no one in this park that would have been able to help you. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Sorry?" she replied hopefully. Basil only pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. There was that word again; one he was beginning to dislike the more he heard it. "I really am, Basil, but I didn't know what else to do. I don't want to go to Scotland and Daddy wouldn't listen to me."

"So, running away was the best answer?" Basil huffed and eyed the area around her. "You are not very good at it, either. You have no extra clothes packed, no food or water...and why do you not have your hat and coat?" He scoffed at her missing outdoor garments. "Young lady... you obviously did not think this plan through...in the survival sense, that is..." Basil carefully stood up and went to locate a blanket, snatching one and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Now, come on, enough nonsense, I am taking you straight home-"

"I am home," Miss Flaversham said, pulling away in defiance. "This is where I live now. I'm not going to Scotland, and that's my final word."

Basil emitted a low, throaty growl in response. "Child, I am in no mood for disobedience," he warned with his eyes remaining narrow. "You will come with me this instant or I will summon a constable to take you down instead, and I can assure you he will not be as gentle with you as I am. Now, you are getting out of this tree house and that's _my_ final word!"

Miss Flaversham sighed and began to move. She froze, however, at the sound of an enormous shriek near the window. Shrieking herself, she slammed into Basil's chest, causing them to fall over the table and onto the floor. Both snapped their necks to the right to see a pair of large, yellow eyes looking in at them.

"Basil! Is- is that a-"

"Yes, it is! Confound it, it's night fall, we are not safe up here!" Basil proceeded to crawl over to extinguish the flame in the lantern, leaving the two in a semi-dark room. He then extended his arms to blindly search for the girl, his fingers brushing against her clothing. Miss Flaversham whimpered and reached to hold onto his arms. "It's all right, I got you...quickly now, take my hand!"

The owl continued to peck at the window as Basil scrambled to drag a now crying Miss Flaversham towards the door. Rising too fast to his feet, he bumped his head on the low beam again with another curse word escaping his lips. He grinned sheepishly down at the girl. Before he could apologize for the obscenity, the owl broke the glass of the window and proceeded to peck its way inwardly at them. Basil took Miss Flaversham by the hand with the other twisting at the doorknob. The latch finally clicked and opened for them. They ran as fast as they could to the tree's secret hole.

"Basil, it's coming towards us-"

"Hang on!" Basil pushed Miss Flaversham into the hole first just as the owl fluttered onto the same branch, screeching angrily at them. "Grab hold of the ladder, quickly!" Miss Flaversham took hold of the ladder and began to descend a little as Basil climbed inside the hole next. He turned to descend the ladder but gave a shout when he did so, meeting a pair of yellow eyes mere inches from his face. Basil reached a shaking hand up to try and close the hole, nearly losing his fingers from the massive pecking of the owl's beak.

"No!" Miss Flaversham screamed in fright. "Stupid, bird! Leave him alone!"

"Away with you, you maniacal fowl!" Basil growled and poked two fingers directly into the owl's eyes. The owl shrieked and snapped its head back, allowing Basil time to slam the door. The movement caused him to lose his footing on the ladder and step onto Miss Flaversham's head.

"Ow, Basil! Watch out!" The child gasped and turned to gaze up at the bottom of his shoes. Basil looked down and sighed in frustration.

"Blast it all, child... don't- don't stop! Keep going! Go!" Miss Flaversham continued to climb down the ladder with the fuming detective not too far behind. At the base of the hole, she started to open the door when Basil jumped off the ladder and stopped her, placing a finger to his lips. "Shhh, wait! Wait for it to leave..." The owl continued to screech above them in hopes they were still at the top.

"I'm scared." Miss Flaversham backed up against the tree bark with arms wrapped around her chest to try and calm down. Basil was at a loss of what to say to her when he too was scared he would not get her out of their predicament alive. Someone, however, had to be the brave one of the two, and he immediately elected himself. Turning to face her, his eyes widened at the sight of a large spider crawling down her shoulder. Catching his horror of an expression, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Don't move."

"What?" Basil moved forward and smacked at her shoulder, making her shout and jump to the side. The spider went flying in some unknown direction as Miss Flaversham gave him a look of surprise. "What was it?"

"Oh, it was just a spider crawling on you." A loud gasp was heard as he casually went on. "This tree has a terrible insect infestation. I would stay away from the sides if I were- Oof!" Miss Flaversham unexpectedly jumped on him with arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Gasping for air from the loss of oxygen, he faintly uttered, "Perhaps I should not have told you that?"

"Get me out of here!" Tears began to pour from her eyes. She gasped again at the screeching and looked up. It almost sounded as if two or three more owls had come to investigate. Basil also took pause to lift his head upward to listen to the sounds of their unholy cries and fluttering wings. "Please, I want to go home now!"

"Oh, but, I thought you already were home," Basil chuckled, amazed that he was able to find humor at such a time. Miss Flaversham could only stare up at him in shock. Catching her gaze, his grin faded and he lightly tapped her back. "It's all right, my dear, I know exactly what you mean. I promise I will get you home to your father as soon as possible."

Silence above seemed to indicate the owls had given up the chase. Basil and Miss Flaversham slowly began to climb out of the hole and dart across the lawn to the nearest bush, waiting for the next attempt of running towards the park's main gate. To their dismay, several owls were still flying and swooping around in the area, searching for any critters such as themselves for a tasty morsel. On the other side of the gate, Basil could see a stationary carriage facing in the direction they needed to go. Taking a deep breath, the two latched hands and performed a sprint towards the main gate. Screeching was heard overhead along with Miss Flaversham screaming in fright. Both soon reached one of the rear wheels of the carriage and, in a swift move, Basil lifted and placed Miss Flaversham onto the footrest. As he started to climb on next, the carriage began to move. Basil quickly jumped at the footrest, clinging on with Miss Flaversham pulling him up with any strength she had left in her.

"Thank you..." Basil said, receiving a mere nod in return. He could see she was greatly shaken with fear, and rightfully so after the events they had just been through. Smiling weakly, he continued, "Well, that was quite an adventure, wasn't it?"

The young girl sighed and dropped her head upon his shoulder in a silent faint. "It was indeed."

Basil carefully shifted an arm to locate his pipe and matchbook in his coat pocket. As he blew out the first puff of smoke, he started to lightly chuckle again at the disbelief of all that happened to them. Miss Flaversham continued to sleep and he smiled outward, knowing this was going to be a very quiet ride back to her father's shop.

oooooooooo

Upon returning home, Miss Flaversham was more than agreeable to travel to Scotland with her father. I have yet to receive details of what exactly happened, only that when Basil returned with the girl, I could see both had been through quite an ordeal. We bid the two good night and went to stay at our rooms at the Grapes Hotel, seeing them both off at the train station the following evening. Flaversham changed his mind about allowing his daughter to accept the voodoo doll when realizing it was the only thing she would have as a reminder of the detective. It was a tearful farewell even for Basil. The second time was just as hard on him, perhaps more so than the first. He was already walking away from the view of the train long before it left the station. I soon located him sitting quietly on a bench and having a much-needed smoke on his pipe. He was not in the mood to talk about anyone or anything, and I accepted that with no arguments.

ooooooooo

A/N: End of Chapter 11. This is considered the wrap-up chapter after the battle has ended. I wanted to write in one more amusing adventure with Basil and Olivia before the story came to a close, but I had hoped I wasn't writing her out of character by running away. The epilogue is next and then it's over!


	12. Epilogue: When One Door Closes

Epilogue: When One Door Closes

Basil and I returned to London the following day. The case was won, the curse of the voodoo doll was lifted and safe in a child's possession, and yet, I did not feel much like celebrating. Natalie died, the Flavershams left for Scotland, and Basil lost a dear friend, someone I was hardly acquainted with. He was fighting back the pain of sorrow. I could see a glaze in his eyes as he stood in front of his fireplace mantel, but it did not last for long.

"We certainly live in an unusual world, Dawson, and I am one to believe it will become more unusual once we reach the twentieth century."

I nodded in agreement. "And we are only a few years away from it."

Before my tale comes to a close, there was one minor detail I must include. The two of us sat quietly with reading material well into the eleven o'clock hour. A light tap alerted us to a presence at the door. Through the window we saw a young woman waiting impatiently to enter. Basil lowered his book and walked over to open the door for her.

"Good evening, miss, may I..." Basil's voice trailed as he stared at the young woman before him. I rose and walked over, almost dropping my jaw at the sight of her. She was wearing different clothes, but I instantly recognized her face and sweet smile. It was the same girl who thought Basil and I were lovers and whom lead us straight to Ms Wicks herself.

"It's you, the one who thought we were, um..." I too drifted off on my words, not wanting to finish what I intended to say. The girl blushed and lowered her head.

"Forgive me for coming so late-"

"Nonsense!" Basil snapped with a polite, welcoming voice. "No hour is ever too late for the business you have to share with us." My friend took her dainty hand and guided her inside. The girl noticed my stare and turned to Basil instead as he addressed her. "Now, tell us what brings you all the way out here to London and pray, be precise about it." He quietly offered her to take a seat in his red armchair.

"Thank you. My name is Beatrice McBreen," she softly began after sitting down in Basil's chair. "As you can see, I traveled quite far with important news, and it was not so easy to obtain. Right after you and...your friend...left, I was terribly lost and confused. My head swam with too many thoughts to gather what exactly happened. And then I saw a dagger lying on the ground with a trail of blood stains leading down a dark cavern."

Basil lowered his brows and tried not to growl too loudly. "That horrible witch... she survived after all..."

"Err, maybe not! We have not seen her since! I believe we are all free of her evil bond, sir." Ms McBreen attempted a friendly smile at her pause. Basil still did not look convinced, but made a gesture for her to continue. "Anyway, I went to find more friends in other parts of the cavern, lower levels of the rooms we used as private quarters. As I made my way through these rooms, I found myself walking down a path that led to one of many open areas of our lava pit. I walked until I could walk no further, when the heat was too unbearable to continue. As I walked, I looked down to see fresh footprints on the ground. They were very faint, but it was definitely a set of feet from someone walking away from the pit.

"Those who saw this mouse said she was a female holding a small child, both badly burned from the heat and smoke but very much alive. She handed a note to one of my good friends before disappearing from sight. I have not returned to that cavern since I reached the surface; there was nothing left for me but bad memories. I hope you do not mind, but I read the note before I realized it was not intended for my eyes. The letter was addressed to you, Mr. Basil of Baker Street. At first I thought it was a Baker Street of Manchester, but the only Basil of such a street is the famous one of London. I wanted to bring it to you as soon as possible."

"The note..." Basil's eyes darted around her. "Do you have it?"

"Of course." She dipped her fingers into her dress pocket and pulled out a folded white piece of paper. Basil took the note and stepped away from our view.

Several minutes passed. I hoped he would not keep its contents to himself for much longer; the silence alone was pushing me to the brink of insanity. Refolding the note, he nodded and placed it in his robe pocket.

"This is very important news, and I thank you for the trouble of bringing it to me at a moment's notice. Is there any more news you have to share with us?"

Ms McBreen was too busy focusing her attention around the sitting room to answer. It has been that way with several clients who start to notice a vast number of the detective's inventions, many of which they have never seen before.

Basil cleared his throat. "Ms McBreen?"

"Hm?"

"I said is there any more news you have to share with us?"

"Just this, Mr. Basil," she replied, dropping her voice, "We never spoke, I was never here, you and your assistant never saw me and I never handed you any note." Ms McBreen approached my friend and took one of his hands into hers. "My life depends on it. Please, do as I request."

Basil nodded as I continued to quietly observe all of her actions. Ever since she entered our flat, she looked and spoke with agitation. Her hands never stopped holding and releasing themselves. Her eyes also kept looking to the entrance as if she felt someone was watching her.

"You have not only brought me important news, but positive news as well. With that, I will therefore do as you request." Basil slowly raised her hand, not to kiss it (no, I could not see that happening), but to guide her to the exit. "Thank you for all of your valid information." Basil closed the door and pulled the note from his pocket. Sighing, he rolled his eyes as he made his way back to his chair. I could not wait much longer; I simply had to know what had been in the note.

"Well? Was it Ms Laveaux and Natalie? Did they survive the lava pit?"

"They did..." Basil said in a distant tone. "As did Ms Wicks from the stab wound."

"Oh, that is wonderful! Er, that is, for the young ladies, but then that witch-"

"Is on the prowl again. Maybe not for me, or little Natalie, or even the Flavershams, but she is definitely alive and seeking revenge on whomever she can find." Basil unfolded the note again, looking it over once more with a shake to the head. The curiosity finally burst within me.

"Pardon my intrusion, Basil, but what does the note say, or am I not permitted to know?"

"No, no, it's quite all right, old chap. It says..." Basil cleared his throat and read the note without looking at it:

_To Mr. Basil of Baker Street,_

_The little girl and I are considered dead to our enemies; therefore, I cannot provide much information in written form. My current whereabouts cannot be documented upon this paper as well. I have no doubt in my mind that more cases will reach your door, cases that are just as harmful as the one we faced together. When one door closes, another one opens. Take my warning and be alert when opening that new door. Life is but a path to many discoveries, many adventures, and yes, many dangers. Protect yourself and your loved ones, my dear friend. If I do not see you in this life again, I will await for your arrival on the other side. Take care and Godspeed._

_Sincerely,_

_ML_

I could only nod in silence. Ms Laveaux and Natalie were alive, but we could not get to them, not when they were considered dead to others. Wherever they were, I hoped they were all right and did not need our further assistance. I was not prepared for a new adventure just yet, not prepared to face dangers that could cost me my life. Basil could see all that in my expression.

"Well, it seems to be getting late. I think we should retire for the night so that we can be alert and vibrant for any new cases to arrive." Basil winked once and I lifted a small smile.

"Right, Basil." I folded the newspaper I had been reading and placed it on top of a small stack of others.

"Goodnight, Dawson," Basil nodded and gestured to his chemistry table. "Oh, by the way, I left something for you on here. Keep it or discard it, it makes no difference to me. Goodnight." As he slowly disappeared down the hall, I walked over to search around the table, finding nothing that seemed new or different. Making one last sweep, my eyes went over a small, round piece of gold hidden beneath some papers and envelopes. Lifting the piece, I discovered it was a simple metal with some writing upon it. I squinted to the words barely scratched into the surface:

This metal is officially awarded to

Dr. David Q. Dawson

A brave mouse and a loyal friend

"Oh, Basil!" I grinned with tears in my eyes. "You really should not have done this for me-"

"I didn't," Basil popped up from out of nowhere. "It was enclosed in the Flaversham's last letter. I also received one, placed it somewhere in one of my pockets...seems as though we have a little admirer." I did a second glance at the metal and found the initials O.F. "Now, had it been me, I would have just said, 'Well done, old chap.' Brevity is the soul of wit, yes?"

"Too true, Basil," I headed for my bedroom and said to myself, "but it is the thought that counts!"

THE END

A/N: And cut! That's it! The Mysterious Toymaker is officially over! Yes, I kept the OC's of mine alive for possible new adventures if I ever decide to make more. I started this story in April of 2007, thinking I would never finish it. I spent three years of my life putting this story together and coming up with a decent beginning, middle and end. I'd personally like to thank all of the readers who enjoyed it along with a very huge thank you to my two beta readers, Julibee Darling and Megana. Without them, the story would be nowhere near as successful as it is. Seeing how much fun it can be writing for these characters, I'd like to continue writing more stories, and hopefully they will be just as good as this story was!


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